


Plus One

by marieadriana



Series: ARROW, Inc. [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, It's Someday!, Multi, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Telepathic Bond, family visits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieadriana/pseuds/marieadriana
Summary: The triad of Clint, Natasha, and Phil have survived the Battle of New York with nothing more than a new scar for Phil and some heavy emotional baggage for all three.  They've been ordered on sabbatical by their High Priestess and friend Catriona O'Clare, and will spend a week in Iowa at the Barton Homestead, and a week in Wisconsin with the Coulson family.  What else will change for the triad while they adjust to Phil's new role as a Guardian?(Takes place May 4, 2012 - May 19, 2012)





	1. Chapter 1

As Tony had promised, a Stark Industries jet was waiting at the airstrip for the triad. Phil, Clint, and Natasha boarded to find CJ already performing preflight checks. “I’ll have you in the air in about ten, Chief,” CJ said, glancing over his shoulder.

“That’s fine, faireoir.” Phil smiled at him, dropping into one of the luxurious seats with a sigh. He carefully placed a large bakery box on the seat next to him. “Do you want a donut?”

“No, thanks.” CJ couldn’t help but smile back. It was nice to know some things didn’t change. They’d dealt with aliens and invasions and nuclear bombs today – but it was Friday, damn it, which meant there were donuts.

Routine could be very soothing.

Natasha looked at the seats for a long moment before settling herself in Phil’s lap. He laughed a little but didn’t try to move her. Clint relocated the donut box and took the seat next to Phil instead, pulling Natasha’s legs onto his lap. 

“You should call your sister,” Phil murmured to Clint. “Sister-in-law. Laura’s probably seen the news… and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to warn her, before we drop in.”

“In that case, you need to call Mama Diane, too,” Clint murmured. He leaned until he could rest his head on Phil’s shoulder. 

Phil tilted his head to rest against Clint’s. “I texted her from the helicarrier. I had slightly more time on my hands than you two did.” Natasha pressed her face into Phil’s neck and he ran a comforting hand down her spine. “We can call her once you’re done with Laura, alright?”

“Yep.” Clint dug his cell phone out of a pocket. The call was answered before the first ring had finished.

“Clint?!”

“I’m okay,” he said immediately. “We’re okay. Goddess, I’m sorry. I didn’t think to call until right now – okay, I didn’t actually think of it. Phil did.” Clint met his husband’s amused eyes. “Guess it’s all over the news, huh?”

Laura blew out a long breath. “Yeah.” He could hear her taking several careful breaths. “I saw you and Nat on screen, but not Phil or Catriona. Are they okay too?”

“Yeah.” Clint felt like a complete ass – media coverage hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Catriona’s wiped out – she had to do some heavy duty voodoo to keep Phil alive – ”

“What?!”

Clint rubbed his forehead. “Okay, yeah, I could have phrased that better.” He blew out a breath of his own. “Sorry. It’s been a long couple of days… which. Um. Is why we’re on a plane headed to you? Catriona’s making us take some time off and – ”

“How far out are you?”

“About two hours,” Clint answered. “And we wanted to stay a week, but – if we’re going to be in the way – ”

Laura huffed irritably. “You won’t be. Is it the four of you, then?”

“Just three. Catriona’s staying at the Tower – at Stark Tower – with the others,” Clint answered. “We’re… umm… under orders? Because of the new bond and all?”

Phil reached over and plucked the cell phone out of Clint’s hand. “Laura, it’s Phil.”

“Thank God, because Clint’s not making much sense.”

Laughing, Phil shifted until he could hold the phone with one hand and Clint with the other. Natasha curled tighter in his lap. “It really has been a long couple of days for us. We wouldn’t normally just drop in on you, but Catriona is rather insistent. She… I…” Phil trailed off, trying to think how best to phrase it. “During the whole mess today, I was badly wounded and then… Chosen.”

“Like Clint and Nat?”

“Very much like, though a slightly different flavor. It means the three of us share a telepathic bond now, and it’s… an adjustment.” Phil stroked his fingers along Clint’s arm. “A good one, but something that needs more attention than we can give, if we stay in New York with the others. Catriona wants us to spend time with your family, and then a week with my parents. I expect we’ll be fairly lousy company the first day or two… I think I could sleep for twenty-four hours straight.”

Laura was silent for a long moment. “Alright. Barney’s on assignment – I’m sure you’re just heartbroken about that – but the kids and I will be happy to have you. I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room – ”

“Do you have camping gear?” Phil interrupted. “I think… at least tonight… I’d rather be outside. Closer to Gaia.”

“I’ll pull it out of the barn,” Laura promised. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

They ended the call and Phil handed Clint back his cell phone. “Sorry, pretty bird. That was… presumptuous of me.”

“You can presume on me anytime, Moonbeam,” Clint said, tucking the phone away. “Besides, you usually know what to say.”

“Diane next,” Natasha murmured. “And put her on speakerphone please, loverling.”

Phil did as she requested. The phone rang twice before his mother answered. “Phil?”

“It’s us, Mom,” Phil answered. “Nat and Clint are here too.”

“Oh, thank God,” Diane breathed. She was silent a moment, gathering herself. “Hello, loveys. Had a bit of an exciting day?”

Clint barked out a laugh. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’m willing to listen. If you want to talk about it, I mean,” Diane offered. “Oh, I wish you were here – I need to hug each of you.”

“Well… with that in mind…” Phil cleared his throat. “How does a week from tomorrow sound? For a week? We’re on sabbatical, but we’re starting with Clint’s family in Iowa—”

Diane cut him off. “How are you taking two weeks off right now? I can’t imagine Director Fury wanting to part with you at a time like this.”

“Well. We… quit.” Phil would have rubbed his face if he’d had a free hand. “It’s another long story and I promise we’ll tell you all about it when we get there, but… yeah. We resigned en masse. We three and the Scoobies.”

“And Maria?”

“Staying on for now, at my request.” 

His mother was quiet a moment. “Alright. I expect those details when you’re less exhausted, lovey – because I suspect there’s a lot more to the story… and you’d better have a very good reason for asking Maria to stay when her Misty is not.”

“I do. And I know, it’s… a lot.” Phil sighed. “Mom, I love you dearly and I promise I’ll stay in touch and we’ll see you next week but – I’m fried.”

“Get some rest,” she said softly. “We love you – all of you.”

Phil hung up the phone and slumped in the seat. Clint rubbed his cheek against Phil’s shoulder. “Are you as fried as you sound?”

“Yeah.” Phil had one arm around Natasha on his lap and slid the other around Clint. “I was fried before the invasion. I’ve needed a vacation since… hell, probably since… at least since we found out about the cricket.”

Natasha nuzzled closer to them both. “I think it’s been since Misty was assaulted, loverling. You don’t do well when things happen to your people that are out of your control.”

“No, I really don’t.” The arm around Clint’s waist tightened, hard enough that Clint squeaked. “Sorry, pretty bird.”

“We’re going to spend this whole two weeks having emotions, aren’t we?” Clint grumbled – but there was no heat to it. 

They fell silent then, just holding each other close, until CJ began the descent into Waverly.

~ * ~

As the StarkJet was equipped with VTOL, CJ didn’t bother with the airstrip. Clint pointed out a field left fallow for the season and CJ parked the jet there. “Can I come meet your family?” CJ asked Clint softly. The archer had been leaned over him, helping plot a safe landing zone.

“Sure.” Clint ruffled his hair. “That way you know we’re in good hands.”

The four of them descended the ladder from the cabin to the ground, and the three Chosen immediately shed their footwear. Phil let out a soft sigh. “I had no idea it would be that different, flying now,” he murmured. “I don’t think I like it.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Natasha agreed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

Clint set off for the farmhouse with the others following. Phil caught CJ’s hand, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, faireoir?”

“I liked it better when you called me kiddo,” CJ admitted shyly.

“Alright.” Phil squeezed his hand. “Are you okay, kiddo?” CJ shrugged. Though the sun had just set, there was still enough twilight for Phil to make out his facial expression – or lack thereof. The sharpshooter’s face was as bland as one of Phil’s Agent faces. “I’d appreciate an answer, even if it’s not the one you think I want.”

“It’s not every day you watch your clanchief die.” CJ’s voice was almost too quiet to hear. “I’m… I’ll be okay. It’s just hard.”

Not caring where they were or who saw them, Phil stopped and pulled CJ into a hug. “I’m not dead, CJ. Your quick thinking kept me from dying.” The young man – and at the moment, he felt more like a child in Phil’s arms – trembled but nodded his head against Phil’s shoulder. “I think it might not be a bad idea for you to call your therapist tomorrow, bugaboo.” 

“Yeah.” 

Realizing their husband wasn’t immediately behind them anymore, Clint paused. {You need backup, Moonbeam?}

{No, I think we’re okay. Poor kid’s had a rough day.} Phil lifted a hand to stroke CJ’s hair back from his face. “You ready to go in and meet Laura and the kids? It’s alright if you’re not – we can stay out here however long you need.”

CJ pulled away slowly. “Let’s go in. I’m probably not the only one who needs a hug.”

Knowing it was past the children’s bedtime, Clint didn’t knock on the door to the farmhouse. Much as he adored two-year-old Lila and six-year-old Cooper, he would deal better with them after a full night’s sleep. And maybe a shower.

Laura met him just inside the door, and wordlessly pulled him into a tight hug. She didn’t even look up as Natasha, Phil, and CJ filed in. By the time she pulled away, there were tears standing in her eyes. Laura grasped Clint by the shoulders and shook him lightly. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, Laura.” Clint tried to smile, but exhaustion was winning. “Didn’t mean to.” Laura hugged him again and he patted her back soothingly. “I’m okay, I promise. Got a clean bill of health from a demigoddess, even.”

“You’re just going to make her brain melt, talking like that,” Natasha chuckled. When she spoke, Laura released Clint and latched onto Natasha instead. “Ooof. I’m okay too, Laura.”

“You looked badass in the video footage,” Laura said, pulling back to wipe at her streaming eyes. “Cooper couldn’t believe it was his Auntie Nat kicking butt out there.” She turned to Phil, and only then noticed CJ. “I thought it was just you three?”

Phil tugged CJ closer. “He isn’t staying – he just came in to meet you. Laura, this is CJ Forrester. Faireoir, this is Clint’s sister-in-law Laura Barton.” Normally, CJ could handle introductions. Today was not a good day for his anxiety, though, and he flashed Phil a half-panicked look. “It’s alright, kiddo. Laura understands boundaries.”

“Greet him like you did me, when I first came home with Clint,” Natasha murmured to Laura.

With that in mind, Laura didn’t reach for a hug or a handshake. “Welcome to the Barton Homestead. The kids are going to be disappointed… they’d like meeting another one of Uncle Clint’s friends.”

Clint reached out for CJ and pulled him in with an arm around his shoulders. “This is my shooting trainee, Lo. He’s not much with a bow—”

“Hey!” CJ protested, chuckling.

“—but he’s a damned good shot otherwise.” Clint kissed CJ’s temple. “And he’s one of our fledglings, the kids.”

“Ah!” Laura’s smile grew wider. “I was hoping to get to meet them.” She looked CJ over again. “So, I should introduce you as a cousin, and not an uncle?”

“Um. I guess?” CJ looked from Clint to Phil.

“Cousin’s probably pretty accurate,” Phil murmured. He held out his hand for CJ again, and was unsurprised when the young man extracted himself from Clint’s hold to worm back under Phil’s arm. “Are you alright to fly back, kiddo?”

CJ nodded, hoping he wasn’t lying. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. But. Um. You’ll check in regular, right?”

Phil brushed the blond bangs out of CJ’s eyes again. “We will. Text me when you land in New York, please. I probably won’t see it until morning, but I’d like to know you made it there safely.”

“I will.” CJ pulled away from Phil to hug Clint tightly, then turned to do the same to Natasha. “I. Um. I love you guys.”

“We love you too, faireoir,” Phil answered, giving one last tight hug and a paternal kiss on the forehead.

Laura waited until CJ was out the door – and some distance away – before she spoke. “I know it’s been awhile since I saw you guys, but I didn’t realize you’d gone and adopted a kid.”

Phil chuckled, running a tired hand down his face. “Eight of ‘em. Sort of. The Scooby squad, our trainees. It’s… complicated. But they’re ours,” he added.

“CJ’s the youngest,” Clint continued. He sidled closer to Laura and put an arm around her waist, absently noting how thin she’d gotten. “And he’s had a rough life. When he decided to trust us, he went all in. I don’t think I could love the kid more if he was blood.”

“He seems sweet,” Laura agreed. “Are you guys hungry?” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “I can heat up some leftovers.”

“Honestly, what I want more than anything is a shower and some clean clothes,” Natasha sighed. “And I’m afraid I have to beg and borrow something – we didn’t even take time to pack.”

“We can run into town tomorrow,” Clint promised. “But I agree with Sunshine, clean and clad would be great.”

Laura nodded. “One of you can go ahead and jump in the shower while I dig out something to sleep in.” She looked at Clint and Natasha in their uniforms and Phil in his suit. “Maybe just sweats, something you can wear to town too.”

“I’ll go first,” Clint suggested, “and then I’ll go set up the tent and bedrolls while you two suds up. Deal?”

“Deal,” Phil agreed. He snagged a loop on Clint’s uniform and pulled him close for a quick kiss. “Don’t use up all the hot water, lovebird.”

~ * ~


	2. Chapter 2

Clint flopped onto his back on the camp mattress, sighing loudly. “Finally!”

Phil rolled his eyes as he zipped the tent shut. “Dramatic much, pretty bird?” He knelt and crawled onto the mattress next to his husband.

“Yes, very.” Clint held out a hand to Natasha, who obligingly abandoned the lantern she’d been hanging from the center of the tent and curled up next to him. “I’ve needed this for days.”

“Me too.” Natasha pillowed her head on his chest, reaching over Clint to lace her fingers in Phil’s. “Since Fury sent me to Russia.”

“That feels like a very long time ago,” Phil murmured. “Twenty-four days shouldn’t feel like a lifetime.”

Natasha lifted her head to peer at Phil. “You count the days?”

“Of course.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I don’t like it when we’re apart… and until today, I couldn’t just ask Gaia how you were doing.”

“Speaking of,” Clint stretched upwards, kissing each of them in turn. “Have you talked to Big Mama since you got down to terra firma? Because She was pretty insistent with me about regular contact, when I first got hooked in to the Borg Collective.”

Phil dropped his head forward onto Clint’s chest, laughing. “I love you,” he managed to say between bouts of what were – if he were honest with himself – slightly hysterical giggles. “No, I haven’t. I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

\\\It is, Treorai – and Boghdoir, and M’inion.// All three heard the Goddess clearly, despite not being in direct contact with bare ground… perhaps being on air mattress on fertile land was near enough. \\\I did not wish to interrupt your communion with your kinfolk.//

{You are never an interruption, Mother,} Natasha answered.

A ripple of laughter tickled the triad. \\\My dear daughter, there are times I am certain you would prefer not to hear me.// Clint smirked and Phil flushed. Natasha ignored them both. \\\There is a matter of great importance that I wish to speak with you about.//

Clint groaned. {I was kind of hoping we were done with matters of great importance for a while, Mama.}

\\\I am sorry, Boghdoir.// Her tone was soft, kind. \\\I do not believe you will find this subject distressing.//

{Alright.} Phil drew in a deep breath and blew it out carefully. {How can we serve You, Mother?}

\\\You misunderstand me, Treorai. This matter is not in service to me – it is of personal import to your triad.// Over Clint’s chest, Phil and Natasha traded glances. \\\My daughter, earlier this eve when you allowed Frigga Allmother to heal you – she healed all damage to you.// When that failed to dawn understanding, the Goddess continued, \\\Including that to your reproductive system.//

Natasha sucked in a sharp breath. {Mother, does that mean…}

\\\If you wish it – if you are ready – the portents are favorable. Were you to bed your husbands tonight, you would find yourself gravid on the morrow.//

Tears pricked at Natasha’s eyes and the hand she’d had clasped in Phil’s came up to cover her mouth, to trap a shocked, aching sound. \\\Truly?//

\\\Aye.// It was so soft and gentle – full of such unconditional affection that Natasha could not hold back her sob any longer. \\\If you do not wish it at this time, there will be no consequences. I tell you so that you can make a choice as a triad – not to sway you one way or the other. I had not anticipated the Allmother performing this healing – I had intended to wait until you asked my Catriona Alanna to be restored – but I cannot regret that it is done.// She paused again. \\\I shall leave you to discuss it, my Chosen. Know that no matter your decision, I am well pleased with them.//

The presence of the Goddess in their minds faded. {Are we ready?} Phil asked his spouses with infinite tenderness. {Love? Pretty bird?}

Clint was very still beneath them. {Uh. Maybe?}

{Why do you hesitate?} Phil prompted.

{We’re newly unemployed, pretty much relocating from DC to New York, dealing with a shitton of emotional baggage… } Clint trailed off. {Is it wrong for me to want to do it anyway?}

{No.} Natasha pressed her tear-streaked face against Clint’s chest. {I don’t know if we’re really ready… Mama Diane says if you wait until you’re ready, you’ll never do it. I… I want this.} Simple words, but imbued with so much fervor that they rang bell-like in her husbands’ minds. {Let’s… oh, Clint. Phil. Let’s make a baby.}

It wasn’t perhaps the most erotic lovemaking of their relationship – they were all tired, and oddly nervous – but it was memorable. And – Goddess willing – at some point in the future, they’d be able to tell their child that they were conceived under a starry Iowa sky.

And, if said child was being particularly annoying, embarrass them by adding that it was most definitely thank-the-Goddess-we’re-not-dead-yet sex.

~ * ~

{Do we say anything to… anybody?} Clint asked the next morning as they sat cross-legged on the grass. {About…} He gestured vaguely to Natasha’s midsection.

Natasha couldn’t help the bloom of a smile – the faint hint of a blush on her cheeks. {Not yet. I want… just for now, can we… I want to keep it secret, special. Private. For a while?} She tipped her head towards Phil. {If… that’s alright?}

He leaned over and kissed her. {Your choice, love.}

{Thank you.} Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut again, a contented sigh rising from her. {Just… for a while. I want to share it with everybody, but… not yet.}

{I agree with Moonbeam… it’s your choice, and I’m cool with it,} Clint agreed. {I mean, eventually we’ll have to fess up to coming home with a hitchhiker, but there’s no rush.}

Natasha snickered. “Hitchhiker, huh?” Speaking aloud seemed to startle her, and she laughed. “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve made a noise in half a day.”

“You made plenty of noise last night, love,” Phil murmured, leaning over to kiss her. “Just not words.”

“Rude!” Clint flicked a blade of grass at them. “I want morning kisses too.”

Phil obligingly leaned over and kissed his husband as well. “As many as you want, pretty bird.” Clint hummed happily into his touch, lifting a hand to stroke Phil’s face. They might have worked their way back into the tent for another round of indulgence – but Clint’s stomach let out a loud grumble.

“Did you know that sound is called borborygmi?” Natasha asked with a laugh as she drew herself up off the ground.

“I did not – and you’ve clearly been spending too much time with either Maria or my nieces, if you’re randomly spouting trivia.” Phil stood as well, brushing grass off the seat of his borrowed sweatpants. He offered his hand to Clint.

The archer rose with a light touch of his hand to Phil’s – more for the connection than any help. “What do you say we go bug Laura and rustle up some grub before we head into town?”

“Sounds good.” Natasha reached for Clint’s hand and tugged him close for a kiss of her own. “Maybe she’ll make French toast for you, hmm?”

They walked into the farmhouse hand-in-hand, with Natasha in the middle. They’d barely crossed the threshold when a blur of a boy impacted Clint’s knees. “Ooof!”

“Uncle Clint!”

“Hey, Coop!” Clint swung the boy up onto his hip. “Yikes, you’re growing like a weed.”

Cooper wrinkled his nose. “Am not. Weeds get pulled!”

Phil laughed, leaning over to ruffle the boy’s hair. “We stand corrected. Good morning, young Mister Barton. And how does the dawn find you?”

“You sound like Auntie Ona!” Cooper giggled.

“I suppose I do.” Phil’s lips twitched. 

Laura walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, wiping her hands on a damp towel. “Morning. I was beginning to wonder if you’d make it in for breakfast, or if I wouldn’t see you until lunch.”

Clint carried Cooper to her, smacking a loud kiss onto her cheek. “Morning, Laura. Don’t think we didn’t debate staying out… but… coffee.”

She grinned. “Fresh pot on the counter.”

“You’re my favorite sister-in-law,” Clint promised solemnly, before carrying Cooper into the kitchen to pour a cup of caffeinated gold.

Laura turned to Natasha and Phil, smiling fondly. She tilted her head at Natasha as she held open her arms for a hug. “You look good. Better.”

“I can imagine.” Natasha hugged her tightly. “I’ve now had more sleep in the past twelve hours than I had in the past four days.” 

“Same,” Phil agreed ruefully, hugging Laura next, “unless you count the time I was in a trance with Catriona.”

“I think that was closer to comatose than sleeping, loverling,” Natasha said, slipping her hand into Phil’s. She had a powerful need to stay in contact with one or the other husband – and didn’t know if that was related to their new bond or the new bundle of cells within her. She tugged Phil towards the kitchen. “Do you keep any of Catriona’s clan tea on hand, Laura?”

“Yup.” Laura opened a cabinet and produced a small canister. “No coffee for you?”

Natasha smiled, just a little. “Raspberry tea is better.” Better for the hitchhiker – but she wasn’t ready to share that yet. She plucked a sachet of tea out and filled the kettle, setting it to heat.

Phil yawned, pouring himself a cup of coffee once he was sure Clint was caffeinated. “I didn’t realize the pixie kept you stocked too, Laura.”

“She comes by every couple of weeks,” Laura laughed. “I think she just wants to play with the kids, but she always brings something.” She poured herself a cup of coffee but Phil caught a flicker of an expression as she lifted it to her lips. He couldn’t quite classify it.

Clint looked down at his borrowed sweats. “I think we should go into town sooner rather than later.” He did not like wearing Barney’s clothes – liked seeing his husband in them even less. “We’ll pick up stuff for dinner if that’s okay, Lo? You mind if Phil cooks in your kitchen?”

“It’s rude to volunteer someone else’s kitchen.” Laura tapped Clint on the nose, making him grin. “I don’t mind. Might be nice not to cook.”

Natasha met Clint’s eyes. {I thought you said Barney taught you to cook.}

{He did.} Clint managed to keep his expression serene – mostly by keeping his eyes on his coffee. {He’s not a bad cook, or at least he didn’t used to be.}

“I’ll gladly cook in exchange for your hospitality.” Phil shot his spouses a look when Laura turned away to offer Lila a hug. 

{She seem weird to you?} Clint asked silently.

Phil had to mask his snort as a cough. {Pretty bird, think seriously about the last few days. I’m not sure I’d recognize normal if it came up and bit me on the ass.}

~ * ~


	3. Chapter 3

The triad borrowed Laura’s minivan and set forth for the main part of Waverly after breakfast. They’d been assured that there was a big box store for the bulk of their needs – after all, they didn’t need designer clothes, just the basics – and Laura had given them a list of smaller shops she enjoyed frequenting.

“Are we…” Phil began as he navigated the drive. “Are we public?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “If you’re asking if we’re out… I don’t feel like hiding. Do you, dearling?”

“Nope.” Clint stifled a yawn – three cups of coffee was not sufficient, not after the past couple of days. “Not our relationship and not our identities.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, pretty bird?”

Clint lifted his eyebrows. “You’re lucky I can see into your head and know that’s not you dismissing our marriage as unwise.”

Phil frowned. “I just… this is… I don’t want to make things difficult for Laura and the kids.”

“She didn’t ask us to keep quiet,” Clint pointed out. “And she would have, if she wanted us to. You know that, Moonbeam.” He was silent a moment. “How many times have you hidden this fear from us?”

“I’m not afraid.”

Natasha snorted. “I wouldn’t have believed that even without the Gaia bond, loverling.” She slipped her hand onto his knee, careful not to interfere with his driving.

Clint blew out a breath. “What did Ken say to you, to make you this scared?” It was probably not smart to bring up Phil’s dead lover while he was driving – probably cruel to mention it so casually. But Clint couldn’t handle the sick fear in Phil’s mind… couldn’t let it go.

“Not all my issues stem from him, pretty bird.” Phil kept his eyes on the road and his mind tightly controlled – but his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“This one does.”

A vicious part of herself that Natasha tried very hard to keep hidden from her husbands surged up. She wished Price’s blood were on her hands, and not on Phil’s. Anything to have spared her husband this.

Silently, Phil parked the van, but he didn’t move. He tilted his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. Natasha’s hand on his thigh tightened briefly. Behind them, Clint scooted forward until he could rest his hand on Phil’s shoulder. Phil blew out a long breath and released the steering wheel, covering his spouses’ hands with his own. “I don’t want to hide,” he said, very quietly. “But I’m not – I’m not ready to talk about him. I might never be ready,” he admitted.

Clint wanted to push. He didn’t like the despair in Phil’s mind, or his voice. But he understood – more than he’d ever have guessed without the achroi ghra bond – how deeply those wounds cut Phil. Their love wasn’t a magical cure for old pain. Time and a willingness to listen would help… trying to force the issue would not. “Okay,” Clint said into the quiet. “No hiding.” He squirmed between the front seats to press a soft kiss to Phil’s lips, then one to Natasha. “Come on, let’s go inside. I want to pick out toys for Cooper and Lila.”

Telepathy, they discovered, had unexpected uses – such as coordinating a three-pronged attack on a big box store. Phil headed for the groceries, Natasha for the clothing, and Clint for the toys and tools. 

“Is this too old for a six-year-old?” Clint muttered to himself aloud – and his spouses telepathically. He picked up a toy, turning the packaging around in his hands to read the description and age range.

{He doesn’t need another Nerf bow, pretty bird,} Phil protested. {We got him one already.}

“But this one’s better!” Clint held it up, sighting down the foam dart. “Coop would love it.”

There was a tiny gasp from nearby, and Clint looked down to spot a child – roughly Cooper’s age – looking up at him with wide eyes. “I saw you on TV!”

{Ah, hell.} Clint kept his consternation private and offered the child a smile. “Did you?”

“You’re Hawkeye!” The girl’s eyes were very wide, and very excited. “You shoot ‘em up with a bow ‘n arrows like the Indians shoot at the cowboys!”

Clint bit back a laugh. “I shoot a bow, yeah. I learned at the circus.” He’d done his share of fake Indian tricks, too… it was kind of part and parcel of being an archer in the carnival. “I’m not a Native America or First People, and I don’t go shooting at cowboys, though.”

“Just at bad guys?” the girl demanded, looking up at him.

“Ah… yeah. Yeah, just at bad guys.” Clint crouched down next to the girl. “Hi. My name’s Clint.” He held out his hand. 

The girl giggled and squealed and eventually put her hand in his. “I’m Emily.”

“Nice to meet you, Emily.” Clint grinned. “I have a niece with that name. She lives in Wisconsin.”

Further hero worship was forestalled by the arrival of a pair of sensible sneakers – the first thing Clint spied – attached to a young woman. “Aw, I’m sorry, sir.” The sneaker-clad woman held out her hand imperiously, and Emily scampered over to her. “She knows not to bother strangers.”

Clint straightened back up, still smiling. “Not a bother at all. She was just helping me pick out a present for my nephew.” His eyes fell on the little girl again, and softened. {We’re going to have one of these, Moonbeam, Sunshine… not just like it, but… Goddess, we’re going to have a kid.} He felt his spouses love echo through the bond, but neither of them answered him in words. The dopey look on his face must have translated well, because the sneaker woman chuckled and offered a hand.

“I’m Dana Smith. You met Emily already.”

Pulling his gaze out of introspection and back to the real world, Clint shook her hand. “Clint Barton. Pleasure to meet you.”

Something in the woman’s gaze… changed. “Laura’s husband?”

“Oh, Goddess no.” Clint shuddered theatrically. “Brother-in-law. We’re just in town to visit,” he added. Later he’d wonder about that look on Dana’s face. “You know Lo? Laura?”

“Cooper and Emily are in the same class at school,” Dana explained vaguely, her hand tugging Emily closer to her. “It’s been good to meet you, Mister Barton, but I’ve got to get on with the shopping.” She pulled Emily away down the aisle, leaving a puzzled Clint. Emily waved eagerly as she disappeared after her mother.

{That was… weird.} Clint set down the Nerf bow and picked up the LEGO set that Emily had been admiring instead. 

Phil’s mental tone was wry. {What is it Misty says? It’s weird that it isn’t weird?}

{She does,} Natasha agreed. {I miss them already. Not like I did at Christmas, not that… achy needy thing. I just miss them.}

{Me too.} Clint wandered over to the stuffed animals, thinking vaguely that they were a safer gift for a two-year-old. {Think we can call home this afternoon? The group message sounded like Misty’ll be there by lunch, so we could get her and CJ and the pixie all at once…}

{Yes,} Phil agreed. He was testing the ripeness of fruits and vegetables as they talked, his concentration split between his spouses and feeding the masses. {I understand why this is necessary – and I’ll admit to feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all – but I feel guilty, leaving the kids right now.}

Natasha added three t-shirts to her cart – red, blue, and purple – before answering. {It isn’t very often that I get to choose the selfish option – but I am here. I need time with my husbands, time that I don’t have to share you with SHIELD and the Scoobies and – }

{Easy, love.} Phil sent a wash of emotion to her, trying to decide if she was upset enough for him to abandon the shopping and sweep her up in his arms. She sent a wordless assurance, a gentle push for him to resume his tasks. {I don’t think it’s selfish. We’re following the High Priestess’s orders, after all.}

Natasha swiped at her eyes irritably – she didn’t like crying in public – and bumped into the cart of an elderly man also standing in the men’s section. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

“No harm done, miss.” He peered carefully at her over his glasses. “Well. You’re far from home, aren’t you?”

Blinking, her hand slid to a concealed knife, though she didn’t draw it. She felt Phil and Clint’s attention sharpen on her. “I am. Just visiting family.” Then – because she could – she held up her left hand. “And it’s missus.” She smiled when she said it – no sharpness in her tone – just a smug pride at being able to call herself a wife.

Chuckling, the man nodded his head. “So it is. Though – if you’ll pardon me saying so – they don’t seem to cover that in the media.” His expression sobered. “You were part of that mess in New York yesterday, weren’t you?”

{Goddess, was it really only yesterday?} Natasha nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving the elderly man’s face.

The man straightened to his full height, and his right hand came up slowly. With perfect precision, he saluted her. It wasn’t the casual touching of two fingers between acquaintances – all that was missing here was the uniform… and from the way he held himself, Natasha could almost see it on him. Army, she guessed – not a commissioned officer, but no lowly private, either. “First Sergeant Edward Fraser, 3rd Battalion, 7th Infantry Regiment – retired.” He met her eyes and held them, emotion spilling out onto his cheeks. “Thank you for your service, ma’am.”

Overwhelmed, Natasha held out both her hands. The veteran lowered his salute before putting his hands in hers. “Thank you for yours,” Natasha whispered, not sure she could speak any louder at the moment. “My team may protect us from aliens and the like – but it’s men like you that got us this far.”

“You’re kind to say so.” He squeezed her hands. “Your husband is a lucky man.” He freed one hand to dash at the tears on his cheeks. “And this old man had best find the woman that made him lucky – because I believe I owe her a trip to the ice cream parlor. If yesterday proved anything, it’s that life is too short to wait for a special occasion to do something nice for my lady.” He patted her hands once – in a fashion that reminded her forcefully of Phil’s father Alex – before walking away, whistling under his breath.

He was out of sight before she realized he was whistling ‘The Star Spangled Man.’

{He might be on to something with the ice cream,} Natasha said finally. She dumped a package of socks into the cart without paying much attention. {I don’t know that I’m up to much more public, though.}

{I’ll grab some,} Phil promised.

They met at the check-out a scant ten minutes later. Natasha wormed her way under Phil’s arm immediately. Clint scooted closer, snugging his arm around her waist. It was so normal a position for them – in the safety of their homes – that none of them noticed the scrutiny of others.

Clint unloaded his cart onto the conveyer first – toys for the kids, as well as supplies to do the odd jobs around the farmhouse that always seemed to add up. Phil’s cart of groceries was next – they had no intention of straining Laura’s budget with the addition of three more appetites, and Phil wanted to cook special meals for her. There were also ingredients for brownies… though it seemed vodka would have to be foregone, at least by Natasha. Her cart of clothes and toiletries was last – enough to last them the two weeks they were going to be gone. With their usual efficiency, it was only a few minutes before everything was on the belt. Phil dug his wallet out of his sweatpants, chuckling when Clint leaned in and offered to do it for him.

“Behave, pretty bird,” Phil chided, his gaze amused.

“I hate behaving,” Clint pouted. 

~ * ~

Natasha insisted on washing their new clothes first, but eventually all three were in properly fitting jeans and t-shirts that hadn’t belonged to Barney or Laura. Clint was ensconced at the coffee table with Cooper, building his new LEGO set. Laura had put Lila down for a nap – she and Natasha were now painting each other’s toenails. (Both husbands had been quietly amused at their wife’s pouting… Laura did not have the proper shade of purple, according to Natasha.)

Phil was humming in the kitchen, having unpacked the groceries and laid out his menu. He could make the stew from memory – but he was going to have to consult an expert to get the brownies right. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and propped it up on the window ledge – in full view of the counter where he was chopping vegetables – and activated a video call with his mother. “Hi, Mom,” he smiled when Diane answered.

“Hello, lovey.” Diane smiled in return – equal parts love and relief. “Are you all by your lonesome? Where are you?” She leaned towards the camera, as though to peer around the room.

“I’m in Laura’s kitchen – I’m making a stew. And brownies, which is why I called… because I don’t have my cookbook, and I fear the wrath of my wife if I get them wrong.”

Diane laughed. “Let me find my copy, and I’ll read it off to you.”

While he waited, Phil washed what felt like five pounds of potatoes – some to go in the stew, some to cook and mash. Cooper liked them mashed – and Clint liked fried mashed potatoes with his omelettes. When Diane found the recipe, Phil wiped his hands and jotted it down. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“Always.” She paused. “Do you need to run, or can I have you a bit longer?”

Phil shifted his attention to the screen, realizing now how drawn his mother looked. “I’m all yours,” he promised. Maybe they should have gone to the Inn first… he didn’t like seeing those worry lines around her eyes.

“Can you… try and explain…” Diane looked away briefly, and Phil’s concern ticked up higher. “Sweetheart, why did you leave SHIELD?”

He sighed and found a potato peeler. “It’s complicated, but… the short answer…” He ran through the events of the past seventy-two hours in his head. “Okay, this isn’t a short answer but it’s one that kind of encapsulates the whole mess. While I was – while Catriona and I were… okay, don’t freak out.”

“Phil…”

“Catriona had to Heal me,” he blurted. “And I didn’t – I was going to wait to tell you until we were there – ”

Diane frowned. “Why would you wait – Phil, how badly were you injured?”

“Umm.” For all he was forty-seven years old, when his mother used that tone, Phil felt all of fifteen. “Very.”

“Philip.”

“If Fury had succeeded in keeping Catriona away from me… if CJ hadn’t pulled a gun on the Director of SHIELD to get him to move… you’d be planning a funeral with my spouses,” Phil said, very quietly. He heard Diane suck in a breath but continued before she could respond. “And if trying to prevent her from getting to me isn’t bad enough… he took my cards, my Cap cards, you know, I had them with me to ask the Captain to sign them – Fury took them out of their cases, smeared blood on them, threw them in front of Steve and Tony, and told them I was dead.”

“What?!”

Phil set down the potato and peeler, closing his eyes briefly. “I couldn’t step in then, the Healing Catriona was doing was… we were kind of in a trance. Fury told everyone – the entire crew of the helicarrier, which included my fledglings – that I was dead. If it hadn’t been for the Gaia bond, they’d have believed him.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “If it weren’t for Gaia and Catriona, it would have been the truth.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Phil blew out a breath. “Better than okay. The Goddess… Chose me. Not quite like Nat and Clint, it’s a little different flavor but… I serve Her now, and… even if I weren’t pissed enough at Fury to spit, I can’t serve two masters. Clint and Nat managed it, but I… don’t think I can. Not and be a clanchief as well. So… I chose my family.” He smiled at her shocked face on the screen. “I told you once, if I had to choose between SHIELD and my spouses, that it wouldn’t be SHIELD.”

Diane’s fingers twitched towards the camera, and Phil knew she was aching to touch. “I’m proud of you, son.” He blinked in surprise. “You made a very difficult choice, but I think it’s the right one. Even as tired as you look… I see a lightness in you that I’ve missed.” She cleared her throat. “But we don’t need to talk about feelings, not when you’re so far away and I can’t ply you with cookies to get you to talk.” She gave him a slightly watery smile. “Tell me about your plans instead. I’m sure you have them.”

“I… do. Or at least, I have a notion of what I’d like to do. What I’d like the clan – all of us – to do.” Phil switched from potatoes to carrots, peeling and then washing. “Working with Tony and Steve and Bruce – the Avengers… it felt right. I’d like to explore that. There’s a need to fill, the need that the Avengers Initiative was created to fill. I think… if they’re willing, and the Scoobies… I think we could do it together.”

“Apart from SHIELD?”

“Wholly independent would be my preference. I don’t know what we’d do for funding… Tony might have a suggestion – ”

Diane’s eyebrows raised. “Tony Stark? Iron Man? Can’t he bankroll this plan of yours?”

“I’m not going to ask him to do that, Mom.” Phil kept impatience out of his tone, though he was feeling it. “I won’t be another person in his life that only wants his money.”

Blinking, Diane sat back in her chair. That had been a more vehement response than she’d expected – and considerably more personal. “I didn’t think you liked Stark.”

“He’s an acquired taste,” Phil admitted wryly. “But he’s a good man, beneath all the masks. I think…” he trailed off, focusing intently on making the pieces of carrot precisely equal sized. “He feels like family,” Phil murmured. “Like… a sibling. Bruce too, though not as strong. And Steve… they feel like mine. Ours. I can’t explain it, Mom.”

“You’ve never been able to,” she said fondly. “You and your rescues.”

Phil considered several different responses before he spoke. “They rescue me, too.”

“Oh, lovey.” She made to reach through the phone again and sighed. “It’ll be good to have you here. I need to hug you – and feed you.”

That made him laugh. “I will never object to you cooking.” 

“I’ll let you get back to yours.”

“I love you,” Phil told his mother – with more open emotion in his tone that he usually allowed. “We all do. And we’ll see you soon.”

They ended the call and Phil returned to his cooking, though his mind was still gnawing on the conversation. One part was considering his mother’s upset – and the likelihood that the rest of his family would be equally emotional about these events. A larger part was considering what he did want for the future… and the vague outlines of a plan that would allow his clan to continue to help people, even outside SHIELD’s aegis. Still another segment was mulling over how to induct Tony, Steve, and Bruce into the clan. There needed to be some sort of process, some… ceremony. He could order tags for them – once Gaelic names had occurred to him or Catriona – but that didn’t feel sufficient.

“You’re thinking awfully hard, loverling,” Natasha murmured, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder blade.

“Sorry, love.” He tipped his head back to brush against hers but didn’t want to touch her with his food-smeared hands. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your girl time.”

She rubbed her cheek against the soft blue cotton of his t-shirt. “You didn’t. Lila woke up, Laura went to get her. Thought I’d take advantage of my husband’s preoccupation to grope him inappropriately.” Despite the tease, her hold wasn’t sexual – just affectionate.

“It’s the other husband that’s hopelessly preoccupied,” Phil said drily. It was true – Clint was thoroughly engrossed in the make-believe game he was playing with Cooper and the LEGOs. He did spare them the mental energy to picture himself flipping them off, which made Phil chuckle. 

“I like the way your mind tastes when you’re cooking,” Natasha murmured. 

“You’re mixing your senses there, love.” Phil was smiling as he dumped chopped vegetables into the stew pot. “Minds don’t taste.”

“They do so… and yours tastes… bright.” Natasha shifted to press a kiss to the back of his neck. “Mama Diane okay?”

Phil rinsed his hands – shuffling along the counter, amused that Natasha wouldn’t release him and just stepped in unison – and turned in her arms so he could kiss her lips. “She’s fine. Worried. She’ll be better next week, when she can stuff us full of food and hug us until we squeak.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. Phil currently had three burners going on the stove and a pan of brownies planned for the oven – and his arms were tight around her. “Like mother, like son?”

“Evil minx.” He kissed her again. “Just for that, I should scrap the raspberry tart I was planning.”

“Monster!” She laughed and poked him in the stomach, squirming to get away when he retaliated by tickling her sides.

Clint appeared in the archway to the hall, Cooper balanced precariously on his hip. “Dude, no tickle fights without us!”

“Not in the kitchen!” Phil ordered – but far from ending the fun, he released Natasha to dart forward, tickling both Cooper and Clint before dashing down the hall towards the back door, cackling madly. 

Natasha’s mind – and heart – lit up with sparkling, iridescent joy as she chased after her husbands and nephew, tickling and laughing and teasing and giggling. Laura followed the sound and stood with Lila on the porch, watching their antics with an odd expression. 

“Uncle, Uncle!” Clint cried finally, flopping onto the grass. “I give up. I yield! I cannot compete with the might of the Legendary Agent Cool or the Famed Cat Warrior.” 

Phil knelt next to him long enough to kiss him – briefly, in deference to Cooper’s presence – and did the same to Natasha as she settled onto the grass. “I think I’ll take my victory back to the kitchen, then.” He ruffled Cooper’s hair affectionately before strolling back to his cooking, whistling. (In his mind, Clint was amused to note, ‘Whistle While You Work’ was playing.)

“That was fun.” Natasha pulled her knees up against her chest, watching Clint and Cooper. “Real fun.”

Clint snaked his hand over to her, wrapping his fingers loosely around her ankle, just to be touching. “Yeah, it was.”

Cooper squirmed until he was leaning up against Natasha’s legs. “I like it when you guys come to visit. You’re so much cooler than Dad.”

{House rule,} Natasha shot immediately to Clint. He rolled his eyes at her, but nodded. “It’s easy to be fun in small bites,” Natasha said, wriggling her toes against Cooper to make him giggle again. “But I’m glad you like having us here. We like coming, too.” Her expression softened, her vulnerability peeking through. “You were the very first person on the whole planet to call me Auntie Nat, you know.”

“Really?!” Cooper twisted to stare up at her face. “That’s awesome!”

“It really is.” She lowered her legs and patted her thighs, inviting the child to climb into her lap. He did so happily, squirming until he was comfortable. “You and your sister and mom are some of the very most important people in my life, kiddo.”

{Okay, now I know why CJ likes it when Phil calls him that, because it’s fucking adorable to hear you say it,} Clint said in her mind. They felt Phil’s wordless agreement. 

Cooper tilted his head up at Natasha. “You’re my very favoritest auntie.”

“Good.” She kissed his forehead. “I’m glad.” 

{You’re his only auntie,} Phil pointed out wryly. 

Clint’s posture stiffened slightly – just a fraction. Natasha might not have noticed if she hadn’t been admiring his biceps. When his spouses tried to inquire as to the reason, Clint brushed them off and tucked his thought into a quiet, secure place in his mind. {It’s nothing. Just an old memory that I don’t want to taint the day with, okay?}

{Alright.} Natasha let it drop, but she held Cooper a little closer to herself.

~ * ~

Dinner preparations were at a ‘waiting’ point when Phil decided it was time to call home. He checked to be sure Catriona was awake through his Goddess-bond before snagging both spouses and settling onto the couch with his phone.

Catriona answered it before it had finished ringing. “Treorai! And M’inion and Boghdoir.” She beamed at them through the screen. “You are a pleasant sight to behold.”

“You too, little one,” Phil said softly. It was good to see her – but he wished she looked better. Still, it hadn’t been but twenty-four hours since she’d Healed him… he supposed he shouldn’t worry quite yet. “How’s Stark Tower?”

“Wondrous.” Catriona sat up, trying to keep the phone from bobbling too badly. A murmur of voices resolved itself into Bruce, Tony, and Misty. “Tis a fine building, and even finer company.” 

Tony snorted. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Sparkle.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bruce murmured, amused. He felt like he’d been fluctuating between amused and bemused since he met Tony – but he rather liked it. “Do you want us to step out, give you some privacy?”

Catriona tipped her head at Misty, who shrugged. “I’m cool with it, Sensei, if you are.” She hadn’t missed Phil calling Tony by a Gaelic name – she figured it was only a matter of time before he was a clanmember.

“The more the merrier,” Clint said cheerfully. “Hey, Buffy. How’s my favorite cricket?”

“Just fine,” Misty answered with a small smile. “Checked out by the pixie and everything.” She tapped at the tablet on her lap, continuing to work even as they talked.

“Good,” Natasha said. She wished she could reach through and touch Misty – touch Catriona. “We miss you. All of you.”

Misty’s eyes softened. “We miss you too.”

Phil was looking carefully at the screen. “You’re short a couple, grasshopper. Where’s Steve? And CJ?”

“Steve’s out with a search and rescue crew of Tony’s,” Misty answered absently. “I’m running them – guess it’s my first real handler gig, and it’s not even a SHIELD mission. CJ’s in the air still. He’ll be back from Tromso in a couple more hours, according to the last text message I got.”

That was… unexpected. Phil filed it away – he hadn’t known CJ was piloting that trip. He wanted to find out more, but he pushed it aside for now. “Everyone else good?”

“Yup.” Misty flashed him a reassuring grin. “I forget you aren’t in the Scooby Chat. All’s quiet on the homefront.”

“And you, sis?” Clint prompted Catriona. “You look like hell.”

“Clint!” Natasha elbowed him.

Catriona smiled wanly. “He is not wrong, deirfiur. I am recovering, dhearthair. It will not be as simple as a single night’s sleep, I fear. Tis a fine thing that laoch beag brought my satchel and robe from the helicarrier – there are teas in my repertoire that will aid in regaining strength.”

Phil leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Are you taking care of yourself, little one? Letting the others help you?”

“Yes,” Catriona said softly. “I promised you that I would.”

“She’s been good as gold, sensei,” Misty protested, setting aside her tablet for a moment to scoot closer to Catriona, sling an arm around the druid’s waist. 

“But if you checked on the cricket—”

Catriona shook her head, red curls bouncing. “That is a passive use of my Gift. A kind of observation, nothing strenuous. I would not disobey you.” She looked down at her hands. “You are my taoiseach.”

Instantly contrite, Phil sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know better, don’t I?” His lips curved up on one side. “I sound like Dad.”

“There are worse people to sound like than Papa Alex.” Clint patted his husband’s hand reassuringly. “Hell, you could sound like Frowning Fergus.” It startled a giggle out of Catriona. “There, that’s better. I missed that sound. Is pixie laughter especially magical, you think?” He tilted his head at Natasha, his eyes twinkling.

“I am not a pixie,” Catriona protested out of habit. “I am accepting care,” she promised after a moment. “I do not like being a burden—”

“Yeah, no,” Tony interrupted. “Sorry, don’t mean to be an ass and butt in – get that pun there, I’m so damned clever – but you aren’t a burden. And I’m going to continue to repeat that as many times as it takes, Sparkle.” His hand came into view, catching one of Catriona’s. “When you’re back on your feet – your tiny, tiny, feet,” he teased lightly, “if you really feel like you owe us for taking care of you, I accept payment in home baked goods.”

“And hugs,” Misty added. “He looks like he could use more hugs,” she told Catriona conspiratorially. Privately, Phil agreed with her. He’d always thought Tony was touch-starved. If Misty’s gambit worked…

Catriona squirmed closer to Tony and wrapped her arms around him. “I shall bake a veritable feast for the Tower,” she promised, resting her head on his chest, just to the left of the arc reactor. It surprised Phil – more than surprised. Beyond just tolerating her proximity, Tony ran a hand over her hair and down her shoulders in what appeared to be genuine affection.

{Damn,} Clint said silently, his mental tone awed. {I knew Catriona could tame wild asshole brothers. I did not expect her to be able to domesticate Tony Fucking Stark.}

{He’s not a stray cat, pretty bird,} Phil chided. “You’re getting the better end of the deal, Tony,” he said instead – and noted the man’s slight startlement at being addressed by his first name. Did he think Phil could go back to thinking of him only as Mister Stark? “Catriona’s one hell of a cook, and a superior baker. My wife likes her raspberry tart better than mine.”

“To be fair, there is no such thing as a raspberry tart that I don’t like,” Natasha laughed.

Tony’s eyebrows drew together and there was a strange… wistfulness? longing?… Phil wasn’t sure he could interpret the emotion in the engineer’s eyes. “I haven’t had one of those in years. Decades.”

“I must remedy that,” Catriona murmured against him. She yawned. “Treorai, I apologize, but…”

“You need your rest,” Phil said gently. He touched the screen, wishing he could sweep the hair back from her face. “Grasshopper…”

“I know, chief.” Misty plucked the cell phone out of Catriona’s hand so that she could see him better. “I’ll take care of her – and the rest of your fledglings.” She darted her eyes to Tony and Bruce, lifting one eyebrow in inquiry.

Phil nodded slowly. “Yes, all of them.” He stressed the second word – and saw her understand it included the absent Steve. “When you speak to laoch scail next, pass on our love please.”

“Always.”

“And keep some for yourself,” Phil added. 

“You sound like Mama Diane.” It was Misty’s turn to touch the screen – and she was fighting tears. Damned hormones – she cried at the drop of a hat these days. 

Clint tilted the camera towards himself. “I’m going to pull a Chuckles move and just say it. We love you, Misty. And you, Catriona.”

Misty sniffled. “Chuck would swear more.”

Laughing, Clint blew her a kiss. “Yes, he would.”

By the time the call ended, they were all a little sniffly. Clint pulled Natasha onto his lap and buried his head in her hair. Phil scooted closer, his hands stroking soothingly. He was still thinking of the absent CJ – but if he was flying, it wasn’t a good idea to call. He made a mental note to contact the young man later tonight. He needed to be sure of CJ’s safety as much as he had needed to see Misty.

“So which was weirder to you?” Clint asked after a moment. “Seeing Catriona look cowed, or Tony jumping in to defend her?”

Phil sighed, tucking his head into Clint’s neck. “My cognitive dissonance is mostly from seeing Tony allow Catriona that close to his reactor. Do you think he can feel the clan bonds?”

“Maybe. You already gave him a name, so if that’s what makes the bond…” Natasha trailed off. “No names yet for Bruce or Steve?”

“Nothing comes to mind, no,” Phil agreed. He rubbed his forehead against Clint. “I might discuss it with Mother. And I’d like Her opinion on how to bring them into the clan formally.”

“What’s Tony’s mean?” Natasha’s voice was drowsy, lulled by the warmth of her husbands and the smell of dinner cooking. “His Gaelic name?”

Phil smiled, lips curving against the skin of Clint’s neck. “Visionary builder.”

“Clever, Moonbeam.” Clint twisted one arm behind him to rest on Phil’s hip. “They looked… really natural together, didn’t they? Catriona and Tony, I mean?” He was shooting for a casual tone, but it was difficult to hide his real meaning from two people who could see into his brain.

“I don’t think you should go jumping to any conclusions,” Natasha sighed. “Catriona hugs lots of people, dearling. Don’t go seeing attraction there. Besides, he’s taken.”

Clint huffed into her hair. “So? So were we, when we found Phil. It’s not the weirdest thing that could happen.”

“Just because we want her to find her achroi ghra does not mean it’s going to happen on our timetable,” Phil said softly. “It isn’t love at first sight, pretty bird. It’s soul-deep compatibility… borne of a bond beyond friendship. Even if Tony’s destined to be hers… I don’t think we’ll see any hint of it, not for some time.”

“Spoilsport.” 

“Leave the shipping to Angie and her fanfiction, love,” Natasha advised drily.

“Fine.” He sighed noisily. “But I’m going to open a book on it. My money’s on Tony. With or without Pepper.” When neither spouse responded, he sighed again, theatrically. “Chuck’ll bet with me. You guys are no fun.”

~ * ~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this on Strange Bedfellows, but it's relevant here too -- I thought these two fics would be equal length because I'm insane. They aren't, at least not yet. I'm writing them essentially hour-by-hour, side-by-side. That means some hours have more happening in one location or the other. I have no idea if, eventually, they'll be the same length or not... but if you're curious as to why they're not, that's why.

Dinner was delicious – but quieter than Phil was used to, when he cooked a feast. Cooper chattered happily, and Lila babbled… but Laura was more reticent. It bothered Phil, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. {I remember her being more open, last time we were here,} he remarked to his spouses.

{So do I,} Natasha agreed. She took a second helping of stew, ignoring Phil’s amused look. {A lot can change in almost two years. Goddess, has it been that long?}

“We don’t all manage time off together often,” Clint agreed – then blinked. “Sorry. I really suck at knowing when I’m verbal and when I’m not.”

“You can talk in front of me,” Laura said softly. “I don’t mind.”

“That wasn’t—” Clint shook his head. {How do I not say we were talking about her?}

Phil leaned over and brushed his fingers over Laura’s hand. “We know you don’t mind. We’re trying to strengthen that skill – that’s why we’re on sabbatical – and it’s best to do that around someone we trust… so that when Clint slips up, we don’t have to make lame excuses.”

Natasha was turning to Phil to compliment him on the very nice save when she caught a flicker in Laura’s face. {Dearling…}

{I saw it too, Sunshine. But I don’t think we should push too hard,} Clint said. {She seems…}

{Fragile,} Phil supplied. He patted Laura’s hand. “In case we didn’t say it yet… thank you for putting us up, Laura. It means a lot to me – to us – to be welcome here.”

“To be welcome with family,” Natasha added. She ruffled Cooper’s hair. “I have a whole lot of nieces and nephews now, but you guys are my favorite.” 

Cooper beamed at her. “You’re my favorite too, Auntie Nat.” He flung his arms around her and hugged her tightly before returning to his stew.

“Would you like to hear about your cousins?” Phil asked the boy, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“I don’t have cousins.” Cooper frowned.

“Well…” Clint waved a hand in the air. “Okay, so they’re not technically your cousins – but those other nieces and nephews that Nat mentioned? They’d totally consider you a cousin. You’d love Phil’s family. So would you,” he added to Laura. “Especially Mama Diane. She’s awesome. She’d be Grandma Diane to you, buddy.”

A trembling chin was not the reaction he’d been looking for. “I don’t have a Grandma, Uncle Clint. That’s not nice.”

{Shit.} Clint scooped the boy into his arms. “Not one by blood, no. But I promise you, if you want a Grandma, Phil’s mom would totally take the job. You wouldn’t even be the only grandchild that isn’t by blood, bud – the twins are adopted, and she loves them just as much.”

“My mom never met a kid she didn’t want to mother – or grandmother,” Phil murmured to Laura, too softly for Cooper to hear. “I come by it honestly.”

Laura set down her fork, her face a careful mask of indifference. “I’m sure she’s a lovely woman.”

Cooper curled into Clint’s arms, sniffling a little. Clint tried desperately to think of a way to salvage the evening – if the boy started to cry, Clint was afraid it would set off a chain reaction of tears because they were all still so damned tired. “Um. Hey! Did I tell you we saw one of your classmates at the store?”

“No?” Cooper swiped at his nose, looking up at his uncle. “Who did you see?”

“Little lady named Emily Smith. She thought I was awesome, of course – she clearly has good taste.” Clint grinned at Cooper. “Met her mom, too.”

“Dana?” Laura looked at him, and Clint couldn’t parse the question in her gaze.

“Yup. She seemed pretty busy, though – didn’t want to stay and chat.”

Laura smiled a little. “Dana’s always busy. She’s the head of the parent group at Cooper’s school… and I think she runs a group at her church, too.”

“I bet she’s especially busy this weekend a’cuz of the carney vale,” Cooper said sagely.

Phil tried – and failed – to hide a snort. “Carnival, you mean? There’s a carnival this weekend?”

“Uh-huh. Missus Smith doesn’t like it, though,” Cooper explained. “I heard her tell Emily and Julie – Em’s big sister – that the carney vale was full of carnies and shysters. What’s a shyster, Uncle Phil?”

Clint silently thanked the Goddess for his nephew, who had managed not only to change the subject, but to amuse the adults. Phil heard that prayer, but his only response was a quirked lip. “A shyster is a kind of cheater, Coop. Although it’s used more for lawyers and politicians… I’ve heard Derek called that a time or two.”

Natasha sniffed derisively. “I’m sure he deserved it.” Laura raised an eyebrow, and Natasha shrugged one shoulder. “He’s married to Phil’s middle sister. I’m not a fan.”

“Why’d Missus Smith say carnie like it’s a bad thing?” Cooper pressed. “I thought you and Daddy were carnies, Uncle Clint.”

“Uhh… we were.” And they hadn’t been shining examples of humanity, either. “But being a carnie is like being a carpenter or a bus driver,” Clint continued, thinking hard. “It’s a way to describe your job. You could be a really good carpenter and still be a jerk – or be a really nice man who is bad at being a carnie.”

Phil smiled across the table at his husband. “Or you could be an amazing, beautiful man who was a stunningly talented carnie.”

Clint flushed – it was not a blush, damn it. “Hopeless romantic.” He nudged Cooper off his lap and back to his chair. “Where’s this carnival happening? You guys want to go? Might be fun.”

“North of Cedar River, near Three Rivers Park,” Laura supplied. She looked down into her stew bowl. “You guys go. The kids and I will stay home. Have fun.”

“But Mom!” Cooper looked shocked. “I want to go to the carney vale!”

Laura bit her lip and Clint would have sworn he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I know you do, bud, but – Lila’s too little.”

{That’s a bullshit excuse,} Clint shot to his spouses. {What the hell?}

“I bet there’d be room in our car for a passenger,” Phil suggested, trying for subtlety. “If someone needed a ride there.”

“Can I, Mom?” Cooper seized on it immediately. Phil bit back a sigh – he was doomed to be surrounded by intelligent children. “I’ll be good, I swear! I won’t talk to the carnies and I’ll listen to Uncle Clint and Uncle Phil and Auntie Nat and – ”

Laura frowned. “They aren’t here to babysit you, Cooper.”

“It would be fun,” Natasha said quietly. “I’ve never gotten to take a child to a carnival.”

“Well – I – ” Faced with Natasha’s quiet plea, Laura caved. “Alright. Tomorrow, then. But you have to promise me that you’ll be good!” Laura demanded of her son. “And if you’re not going to be home tomorrow, I’ll need you to finish your chores after dinner, before you go to bed. Got me?”

Cooper crowed. “Yes!” He squirmed in his chair, shooting his arms up in the air. “I will, Mom. Tomorrow is going to be the best day ever!”

~ * ~

Phil volunteered to clean up while Cooper took Clint and Natasha out to the barn to take care of his evening chores. Laura protested when Phil insisted she sit at the table with Lila instead of helping. “Just let me take care of it, Laura – either of my spouses will tell you I’m terribly particular about KP. It’s easier to just let me do it.” He smiled at her. “Besides, if I’ve learned anything from my sisters, it’s that a mom will always be grateful for a chance to watch someone else do the dishes.”

When it was obvious he wasn’t going to budge, Laura sighed and took a cup of coffee out onto the porch to watch her brother-in-law attempt to be a farmhand.

The privacy was nice, Phil decided. It had been a long day even though all they’d done was go shopping and cook. Catriona had been right about them needing the break. That shouldn’t surprise him… she was right altogether too often. Chuckling to himself, he sent his mind towards hers with the peculiar little push-and-twist that connected him to his druid.

He was met by blazing, towering fury. Startled, he pushed a query towards Catriona’s mind – and was rebuffed. {I shall explain in due time, treorai,} she promised shortly – and then blocked him out entirely.

Phil hadn’t even known she could cut him off that thoroughly. Alarmed, he dried his hands on a dish towel and stepped out barefoot onto the grass, choosing the front door so as to avoid worrying Laura. {Mother?}

\\\She is unharmed, treorai// The Goddess’s immediate reassurance made his knees weak. \\\It does not appear to be a case of anyone in physical danger – unless my druid cannot restrain her temper. I suggest patience.//

Feeling like he wanted to scream, Phil returned to the kitchen. Patience, She said. Catriona’s mind had been awash with a fierce protectiveness that frightened the unflappable Legendary Agent Coulson, and he was supposed to just… wait. 

Eventually – he certainly hadn’t been watching the clock, so couldn’t swear that it had been seventeen agonizing minutes later – Catriona reached out to his mind. {If you receive a report that an Avenger has been murdered, it will have been Prince Thor Odinson – though the identity of his executioner could be one of any number of people.}

{Ah… little one, I think perhaps I need more information.}

{That brash boy – the meddling idiot – saw Misty’s pregnancy – }

Phil blinked. {What? How?}

{Do not interrupt me when I am this angry, Philip,} Catriona snapped. If her tone hadn’t been enough of a clue, her use of his given name would have been. {He is attuned to fertility, both he and his mother are. He remarked upon her gravid state – and then proceeded to express how proud the babe’s father must be, to have her bearing his child.}

{… add me to the list of potentially murderous souls.} Phil sat down – hard. On the floor in the kitchen, completely unable to walk even as far as the kitchen table. {Is she alright?}

Catriona sighed. {She appears to be. Ceannroadai deantoir calmed her through her panic attack, and held her as she cried – }

{Tony did? Comforted her? She let him?}

There was a short pause, followed by a blast of irritation. {I am nearly at my wit’s end, treorai. I have asked you not to interrupt me.}

{I’m sorry, little one.}

{Laoch beag is here with me now. She is on the phone to laoch scail. Ceannroadai deantoir sent us down here once Misty calmed. He is to send faireoir down with supper.} Catriona paused again. {I must tell you – I believe I am party to a mistake.} Phil bit back another interruption. {Last night, when CJ returned to the Tower from his trip to deliver you to the farm… Ronan had told me through Gaia that Thor and his companions wished to return via plane to New York. I suggested that CJ make the trip.} Not understanding why this would make Catriona’s mind rough with guilt, Phil waited. {He departed immediately… and none of us…}

He didn’t think it counted as an interruption when she trailed off before finishing a sentence. {You sent him to Norway. At midnight. When he’d already been up at least twenty-four hours. When he’d stood guard over us – after he thought I was going to die in his arms – after he’d had to leave us here in Iowa.} Phil’s disbelief was rapidly turning to anger. {What were you thinking?}

{I was not thinking,} Catriona admitted quietly. {I had been asleep, and woke to Gaia’s message and CJ’s entrance. I am not… at my best, treorai. I failed our clanmate in this.}

{None of the others objected? Tony or Steve, Bruce or Erik?}

{You sound quite like Misty – it was she who remarked upon it. It was that ire which prompted Thor’s remark – he wished, as I did, to encourage her to calm for the sake of the babe.} Catriona’s attention cut out briefly. {My apologies. Faireoir has arrived with dinner; I do not wish him to think I am ignoring him.} 

Phil sighed, tilting his head back to bang on the counter. {No, I don’t want that either. Give him your focus for a few minutes. I’ll wait.} He listened as Catriona likened CJ’s decisions to her own – to work to exhaustion in the avoidance of nightmares. It made his heart hurt for both of them. It hurt, too, that CJ seemed to think that being dependent on Phil was a bad thing… but he understood.

He did like it, very much, to hear CJ admit to his clanmates that he liked being called kid or kiddo – liked acknowledging his youth, and feeling safe to do so. That made the pain of separation a little less immediate.

{You may call now, treorai,} Catriona informed him as Misty ended her call with Maria.

The phone was already in his head, and it was a matter of seconds to bring up a video call. A knot in his chest unwound when he saw Misty’s face – tear-stained, but smiling. “Hey, Chief.”

“Do you want me to ask Natasha to figure out how to scalp a demigod?” Phil asked. “She’d probably enjoy the challenge.”

Misty laughed – and his heart rang that it was genuine laughter. “No. I’m shaken as hell and I’m not looking forward to the conversations I’ll have to have tomorrow, but it wasn’t malicious.”

“Prince Thor is very rarely cruel,” Catriona admitted reluctantly. “Laoch beag compared him to your father, treorai – it is an apt comparison. One of us – and not you, deirfiur beag m’chroi, will need to have a discussion with him about tact.”

Phil sighed. “For the love of little monkeys, please don’t let Tony do it.” To his surprise, that amused both druid and grasshopper. “What?”

“I had never heard that phrase until tonight,” Catriona said, looking at Misty. “It amuses me to hear it from both of you, in entirely different contexts. Though,” she hastened to add, “I do agree with the sentiment.”

Misty frowned. “You’re not giving Tony enough credit. The man built – alright, he didn’t build but he kept going – a multi-billion dollar company. He might choose not to use it, but I bet he can be both tactful and diplomatic as hell when he wants or needs to be.” 

Ah – so Misty had indeed seen past his masks. Perhaps Tony comforting her through a panic attack had been the last blow to his disguise, but Phil was relieved to hear that Misty could apparently see the real Tony Stark. “You’re right,” Phil agreed quietly. “That isn’t why I object. Tony is… extremely protective of the people he cares about. I think you are – or are becoming – one of them, grasshopper. Knowing that… I’ve seen what he can do, when someone under his protection is threatened. I’d rather not have him unleash the full power of his anger on Thor, and potentially start an intergalactic war.”

“Alright,” Misty conceded. “Fair point. It probably shouldn’t be Steve then, either.” Phil had to agree with that assessment – from what he’d heard, Steve was already overprotective of Misty before Thor’s bombshell. Now that he knew about her assault… well, this was a man who allowed himself to be experimented on to follow his lover into a war. Goddess only knew what he’d be willing to do, to defend the first friend he’d made in this century. “We’ll talk about it tonight,” Misty promised. “No wars will be fought over this. It was an accident, and there’s no long term harm done. I’m fine, the cricket’s fine. I’d have had to have told everyone eventually anyway – it’ll be okay. Really, Sensei. We’ll all get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow we’ll start another thrilling episode of ‘The Avengers Rescue and Recovery Show!’ and it’ll just… we’ll just soldier on.”

Phil nodded slowly. “Alright.” And pushing his worry for her to one side, he found that space flooded instead with concern for his youngest fledgling. “Grasshopper? Is CJ with you?” He knew the answer to that, thanks to his conversation with Catriona… but it popped out of his mouth anyway, a plaintive quality to the words. CJ might regret how dependent he felt he was on his chief… but Phil knew it was mutual.

“I’m right here, Chief.” CJ leaned closer to Misty so that the camera would pick them both up. “Hi. Goddess, I miss you.”

“We miss you too,” Phil said, brushing his fingers against the screen. As much as he tried to convince himself that he loved all the Scoobies equally, these two were unquestioningly his favorites – and he doubted that was a surprise to anyone. “Catriona tells me you’re being a little too much like her, kiddo. Do I need to order you to have a dreamless night of sleep?”

“Do you think it would work?” He sounded so young, and so desperate, that Phil’s heart broke.

“We can try.” Phil straightened his shoulders and looked directly into the camera. He pulled his authority around him like a cloak, trying to recapture the sense he’d used when ordering Tony to take out a nuclear missile – absolute certainty that his orders would be followed. “All three of you are to have peaceful, restful nights – and that is an order from your clanchief.”

Misty’s eyebrows went up as her shoulders relaxed. “Guess we’ll find out overnight if it works.” She set aside her mostly empty plate. “I’ve got a question.”

Phil smiled a little. “Anything for you, grasshopper.” Was there anything he’d deny them?

“I know Tony’s on his way to becoming one of us, and I’m guessing Steve is too… is Bruce? Do they know? Can I… are they clan?” Misty asked softly. 

Phil rubbed his face, glancing out the backdoor. Laura had walked out to the barn with Lila on her hip. He could hear his spouses talking to Cooper, hear the bawling of farm animals eager for their nightly feed. “Consider them clan,” Phil said quietly. “I don’t know yet how it’ll happen – and Bruce and Steve don’t have Gaelic names yet – but they feel like ours already.”

“Yeah, they do,” CJ agreed. “Thor kinda does too – word vomit aside. Not the same? But… he feels… safe.”

“Good.” Phil ached to reach through and brush the hair off CJ’s forehead, to ease the pinched expression with a careful hand on the back of his neck. To distract himself from the distance, Phil forced himself instead to think of the new inhabitants of the Tower. “How about the others? Miss Lewis, and Doctors Selvig and Foster?”

“I like Erik,” CJ said after a moment. “I really like Darcy. I might like Jane, if she made an effort.”

Humming thoughtfully, Phil nodded. “I don’t feel any of them in the clan yet, but I’ll keep an astral eye open.” He let his eyes drift back to the barn, and the fuss being raised there. Really, Laura should have known better than to let Clint near farm animals… “I’ve got to go rescue Clint from the barn – it’s feeding time, and the donkey has taken an inappropriate interest in my husband.”

{Seriously, Moonbeam? That’s what you’re going to go with?}

{I need an excuse to end the call, pretty bird,} Phil shot back. {I need… I just need, alright.}

Surprised, Clint looked across the space and through the open door to see Phil sitting on the kitchen floor. {Whatever you need. We’ll be right here, Phil.}

“Call at any time,” Phil continued aloud, forcing his voice to stay calm and level. “I’d rather you call fifty times when you’re not sure need me than not call me when you really do.”

“Yes, sir.” Misty blew him a kiss before ending the call.

Phil pocketed his phone, but didn’t rise. He wasn’t sure he had the strength. His people – his fledglings – fuck, just call it like it was, he ordered himself. His kids were hurting, and he was in Bumfuck, Iowa instead of with them. He knew he needed to be here – knew that strengthening his bond with his spouses and with Gaia was vital – but the constriction in his chest, the ache in his bones from seeing them in pain and not being able to ease it…

He was so consumed by misery that he didn’t hear his spouses approach – didn’t register their presences until Clint was manhandling him up off the floor. “He’s fine,” Clint told Laura over his shoulder. “Just – stuff going on with the kids. Sorry, Lo, but we’re tapping out for the night. We’ll be out in the tent if you need us – but try not to need us, yeah?”

Clint almost carried Phil outside and to their tent, Natasha following. {Mama? Think I can get an assist here?} Clint asked.

\\\I am here, Boghdoir, Treorai, M’inion.// Her voice was as soothing as always – some of Phil’s tremors eased. \\\While it is admirable that you feel such pain for your fledglings’ distress, Treorai – I do wish that I could ease your burden.//

{I think it’s… kind of like shock,} Phil said after a moment to breathe. {I haven’t spent much time separated from them and… I think the chief thing is stronger, now that I’m Chosen.}

Gaia hummed in their minds. \\\You are likely correct, my Guardian. Perhaps the physical distance from your clan is as necessary as your physical proximity to your achroi ghra. At this remove, it is possible to distinguish the reactions you feel as yourself, those which are driven by your Guardianship, and those which stem from your Chieftancy.//

Phil sighed, allowing Clint to arrange him comfortably on the camp mattress, and dropping his forehead forward to rest on Natasha’s shoulder. {It’ll get easier, then?}

\\\Aye, my Guardian. As with all new skills, one will grow as they do.//

{I really dislike feeling this out of control,} Phil said finally. 

Clint sank onto the mattress beside him, wrapping him in strong arms. {You aren’t out of control, Moonbeam. You kept it together in front of the kids. It’s not being out of control to let us see you vulnerable… it’s fucking amazing. You have no idea how… how…}

{How blessed it makes us feel,} Natasha continued, when Clint faltered. {To be allowed inside your walls, past the armor. I don’t like knowing you’re in pain,} she added, stroking her hand over his wedding ring, {but I also have never felt… closer. Not even,} she covered her abdomen with her other hand, {not even with the hitchhiker. We love you, Phil. We love all of you… sexy alpha Phil, commanding and capable Agent Coulson… shy, adorable Phil… and this open, vulnerable self that is only for us and Gaia. I love him, too.}

Phil lifted his head to kiss her. {All of me loves all of you.} He swiveled and kissed Clint. {And all of me loves all of you too, pretty bird.} He let himself relax into the mattress, comforted by his spouses on either side.

\\\Sleep well, my children,// Gaia said softly. \\\Know that I am well pleased with thee.//

~ * ~


	5. Chapter 5

Clint snuck back into the tent like a thief – well, a reverse thief. He was bringing something instead of taking something. He had his fingers threaded through the handles of three mugs, and two huge Thermoses in the other hand. It took patience, but eventually he managed to get the tent zipped back up and sank into a cross-legged seat at the foot of the mattress with his spoils. 

“You could have asked for help,” Phil pointed out, propping himself up on one elbow.

“I was trying not to wake you,” Clint pouted. 

“You brought hot coffee within twenty feet of my sleeping body, pretty bird. I’m awake.” Phil’s tone was dry, but his mind was dancing with affection and amusement. Not for the first time, Clint thanked the Goddess for Choosing Phil – being able to see into their husband’s mind was a gift he could never, ever repay.

Natasha rolled away from Phil, where she’d been tucked against his chest. “Is there tea?”

Clint thrust the second Thermos in her direction. “Piping hot Unitea for my Sunshine and our hitchhiker.”

“Yum.” Natasha wasn’t quite as nonverbal as Clint in the mornings, but it was lovely to be able to wake slowly.

“Laura took the kids into town for church… we’ve got a couple of hours to kill before we take the Cooperhawk to the carnival.” Clint poured coffee for Phil first before filling his own mug. “Figure we’ll want to meditate and then… I dunno. I am not used to having this much free time, and it’s kind of wigging me out.”

Phil accepted the mug of coffee, letting his fingers brush against Clint’s. He knew how difficult it was for Clint to admit to discomfort like that – and he appreciated it. “Maybe Barney has a bow you can borrow? Get some range time in?”

Clint frowned into his coffee. “No. Even if he had one… which I doubt he does… I wouldn’t want to use it.”

“You picked up JOAT stuff yesterday, didn’t you?” Phil prompted. “We can start on Laura’s honey-do list.”

“JOAT?” Natasha poked at Phil with one long finger. “Is this another Army term?”

“Jack of all trades.” Phil raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s Army. Surely I’ve used it before?”

“If you did, I didn’t notice it.” Clint drained his mug and refilled it. “Yeah, handyman stuff will do. I’d like to see if I can fix that stuck door to the nursery. Laura said the squeaking sometimes wakes Lila up when she checks on her, and that’s no good.”

Natasha smiled, just a little. “Besides… you need to step up your carpentry.”

“I do?”

“Mmmhmm.” She blew on her tea to cool it, a blissful expression creeping onto her face. “You’ll need to finally start that crib.”

Comprehension – and excitement – bloomed in Clint’s mind. “You’re really going to let me make it?”

“Let?” Natasha snorted. “Dearling, there is nothing I want more than to have our baby sleep in something his or her daddy made.”

Clint flinched. “Um. Yeah, no. Not – not that one. Can Phil be daddy and me something… else?”

“Papa?” Phil suggested. 

“Yeah, that’s… that’s fine.” Clint looked down into his coffee. “Sorry.”

Natasha slid across the mattress to him and unceremoniously plopped into his lap. “It’s nothing to apologize for, dearling. You’re allowed to have a preference as to what our baby calls you.”

There was no hope of hiding his reaction – not with both spouses tied into his mind and in close physical proximity. In the tiny corner of his mind that smelled of crayons, Clint was frightened – not just that he wouldn’t be a good parent… but that it would matter, that the hitchhiker wasn’t biologically his. “I’m sorry. I’m – ”

Phil crawled closer to him, slipping an arm around Clint’s waist. “Lovebird, I would be more surprised if you weren’t worried. We’ve got time to figure it out, alright?” He pressed his lips to Clint’s temple. “Sweetheart, for as much as you love the kids… I have no doubt that you’re going to love the hitchhiker as much as I do, as much as Nat does.”

“I thought Nat was the one supposed to get all emotional,” Clint said after a moment to compose himself.

“I’m sure I’ll do my share of it too.” Natasha tucked her head against Clint’s neck. “Only one of us has to be level-headed at any one time, dearling. That’s part and parcel of being married… keep each other steady.” 

Phil nuzzled against the opposite side of Clint’s neck. “And if, by some momentous chance, all three of us are having ‘moments’ at the same time… we have Gaia, and our family.”

“I can’t go to the kids about this, Moonbeam. That’s…”

“Call Mom,” Phil said, shrugging. “Call Laura. You have resources – use them.” He nipped gently at Clint’s neck. “Stop reacting, start planning.”

“It’s not fair when you use the handler handbook to handle your husband,” Clint sighed – but there was no real malice to it. 

~ * ~

To say that Cooper was excited about the carnival was an understatement by several orders of magnitude. The prospect of an entire day with his Auntie Nat, Uncle Phil, and Uncle Clint was as close to intoxicating as Clint ever wanted to consider for his nephew.

“And we hafta ride the rides, and play the games, and – ”

“Seriously, little dude, we’ll do it all… but you gotta settle down,” Clint said as he strapped the boy into his booster seat. “You’re wound tighter than a top.”

Cooper stuck his lower lip out. “But Uncle Clint!”

“I know you’re excited, but you gotta cut us some slack here, kid.” Clint leaned close to the boy as Phil opened the passenger door for Natasha. “We’ve never taken you – or any kid – on an outing like this. You’re gonna hafta be patient with us.”

{We don’t negotiate with terrorists,} Phil said drily in Clint’s mind. Natasha stifled a snort as Phil got into the driver’s seat. 

{I can already tell this telepathy thing is going to come in handy with our kids,} Clint shot back.

“This is so cool!” Cooper squealed as they approached the carnival. “Daddy never takes me to stuff like this!”

Clint’s eyebrows shot up. “He doesn’t?” He had a sudden flare of doubt. {Shit, is this going to piss Barney off?}

{Probably,} Natasha sighed.

“Never! Even when I’m really, really good and everything. Daddy says they’re stupid.”

{Can I kill my brother?}

{Sorry, pretty bird. That would hurt Laura, and as a big brother I’m afraid I can’t condone hurting sisters.}

Biting back a sigh, Clint unfastened Cooper from the van. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call carnivals stupid, but not everybody likes them. We’ll just have to make this one count, okay?” He held out his hand. “You remember the rule, right? You hang on to one of us unless we specifically say it’s okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Cooper bounced on his toes. “Where should we start?”

“Generally, the front gate is a good place.” Phil ruffled the boy’s hair. “C’mon, bud. Let’s buy our tickets and grab a schedule. Three adults and one very excited child,” he said to the ticket seller. Phil leaned a little into the booth. “I don’t suppose there’s an activity in here intended to exhaust such a child?”

The cashier winked at him. “Three-legged and sack races set up just inside the gate. Pair ‘em up with kids their own age, or one of you.” The young man – Phil thought young man, at least, though it was hard to tell beneath the violently green hair and gothic makeup – handed over four wristbands. “Cute kid.”

‘Thanks. He’s our nephew,” Phil said absently as he helped Cooper fasten the wristband. “Lay on, Macduff.”

Cooper’s brows drew together. “I don’t know what that means.”

{Quoting Shakespeare to a six-year-old? Really?} Clint asked incredulously. “It means head towards the sack races, Cooperino. Uncle Phil’s just being weird.”

“Uncle Phil is always weird.” Cooper seized Natasha’s hand and started to drag her towards the races. “Will you race with me?”

“Sure thing.” It couldn’t be any harder than the obstacle course, right?

While Cooper was distracted, Clint did a little reconnaissance. He edged towards a bored looking carnie who appeared to be both clean and well-fed. “What are the chances I can talk to your boss?”

“My manager—”

Clint shook his head. “Not your manager – your boss.” He shielded his hands with his body and flashed an old hand signal – something he hadn’t had occasion to use in the better part of a decade.

The carnie paled a little. “Uh, I’ll… make a call.”

Nodding once, Clint let his eyes fall on Cooper and Natasha, laughing as their legs were bound together for a race. Phil hung over the edge of the rope barrier, smiling. Satisfied, Clint shifted his attention back to the details. He hadn’t recognized any of the troupe’s symbolism yet – that was good. It meant this particular carnival probably wasn’t affiliated with any of the circuses or other performing troupes he’d run into, back in his carnie days.

“Biff said you wanted to see me?”

Clint’s lips twitched as he regarded the wiry man beside him. “Biff, huh?” Rolling his eyes, Clint nodded once. “You look like you run a tight crew.”

“Thank you.” The man touched his fingers to an imaginary hat. “Gil Boswell. This here’s my crew.”

“How’s the weather?” Clint asked lightly – but with another peculiar hand gesture.

The wiry man – who Clint judged to be in his late thirties, shrugged one shoulder. “Depends. Are you asking as The Amazing Hawkeye, or as Hawkeye the Avenger?”

Damn – he hadn’t thought he’d be recognized the fast. “Neither. I’m asking because I brought my nephew with me, and I’d rather he not get scooped up in anything nasty. So. Like I said, you look like you run a tight crew – is it all looks, or is he safe here?”

Some of the tension in the crew boss’s shoulders eased. “He’s clear. I don’t hold with no stings or scams that’d put a kid at risk. Even if it weren’t against my own code… nothing kills business faster than a kid getting hurt.”

“True that.” Clint nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks for talking to me. I’ll let you get back to work.”

Boswell turned away – then turned back. “Barton,” he said in a low undertone. “We don’t want any trouble here.”

It didn’t surprise Clint to be called by name – not if the man had recognized him as Hawkeye. But it was a little curious that he chose to use the surname, and not Clint’s stage name. He’d rarely been addressed by name – not from a crew boss. “I’m more in the stopping trouble game these days.”

“You might be,” Boswell agreed. “But not all Bartons are.”

Clint was still mulling that over as he wandered over to join Phil. “Think we should rescue Nat?” he asked, leaning into Phil’s shoulder. Their wife was currently the only adult on the field – there were six teams altogether.

“She’s having fun,” Phil answered with a smile. “How is it she describes it? Her mind tastes bright.”

“It does indeed.” Clint slid his arm around Phil’s waist, ignoring a curious glance from a passerby.

~ * ~

Clint blessed whoever had come up with the exhaust-children corner. He didn’t remember it from his own circus days, but it was fucking genius. After half an hour of three-legged and sack races, Cooper was happy to cling to the hand of whichever uncle or aunt was nearest and follow along, instead of yanking at them… and he had a handful of prize tokens to boot.

Genius.

If this was indicative of how Boswell ran the whole show, the man was doing a hell of a lot better than any crew boss Clint had ever worked for. Carson could never have come up with it – or rather, if he had, he’d have dismissed the idea as a waste of time and space. Clint wouldn’t have appreciated it as a young carnie – not even as a stage act – but as an adult escorting a kid? Fuck yeah.

{I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating,} Phil began, his mind twinkling with amusement, {I love the way your mind works.}

{Good, because you’re stuck with me, Moonbeam.} Clint winked at his husband over Cooper’s head. “What next, kiddo?”

“I wanna see the bearded lady!”

“Hell, I didn’t know crews still did that,” Clint remarked, startled. “Yeah, sure.” He let himself be tugged towards a collection of smaller tents. There was a large banner hanging above them that read ‘FAMOUS FREAKS!’ “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Language,” Phil chided gently. He leaned to one side to read a posted flier. “Refugees from the modern world, huh? Sounds a bit like our frozen friend.” He quirked a smile at his spouses. “You want to wander through?”

Natasha nodded, though cautiously. “But this is… you said that this crew is… good?” She looked at Clint.

“All good, or appears to be.” Clint tried to reassure her. “Better to look around and be sure, yeah? If there’s anything hinky, we can report it to… somebody.”

Phil smiled a little. “If there’s anything hinky, we can report it to Misty – or Maria. C’mon then, munchkin.” He tugged at Cooper’s hand and led him into the circle of smaller tents. Clint and Natasha clasped hands and followed.

There was indeed a bearded lady – a petite, round woman with a beard finer than anything Clint could imagine growing on his own face… and he told her so. “Man, that’s – ma’am, that is a work of art,” Clint breathed. He wanted to reach out and pet it and restrained himself. “Do you use product on it? I had a buddy used to swear by this old Amish beard balm, but hers was never as good as yours.”

The bearded lady – the sign above her tend said Madam Sutherland, but Clint knew that probably wasn’t her name – blinked at him. Twice. “No, sir,” she answered quietly. “All natural. I’ve never found a balm or oil I liked.”

“Next time your crew goes through Pennsylvania, you should hit up one of the Amish general stores, definitely.” Clint nodded once to emphasize his point. “Seriously amazing,” he added, afraid she would think he was staring out of disgust. 

Cooper looked from Clint to the bearded lady. “Uncle Clint, why does she have a beard?”

“Because she does,” Clint said, swinging the boy up onto his hip. Six years old was too big to do that, really – but with Gaia strength on his side, it wasn’t a terrible strain. “And because it’s way too awesome to shave off. Right, kiddo?”

“It is pretty,” Cooper agreed.

Grinning, Clint waved at the bearded lady and carried Cooper to the next tent. Phil leaned towards the performer. “I apologize if our husband upset you,” he said quietly, with a soft smile on his cheeks. “I hope you take it in the manner he intended – he’s excitable, but he means well.”

“Not upset,” the lady managed to say. “Thank him for the advice, please?”

The next tent was shrouded carefully, which made Clint hurry his steps in anticipation. “Is this… it is! I haven’t seen an albino in years.” He nudged aside the curtain and stepped in, beaming. “Look, Coop! When your dad and I were with the circus, there was a guy like this in our crew. Hey, man.” Clint stuck out his hand to the performer. “Clint Barton. Nice to meet you.”

“Walter White,” the man answered, shaking his hand.

“Dude, that’s a terrible stage name.” Clint shook his head. “Just awful.”

The albino laughed. “My name really is Walter, though. I don’t mind.” He tilted his head at Clint. “You were on the circuit?”

“Years ago, like – two decades ago.” Clint hefted Clint back up higher on his hip. “Don’t usually miss it… kinda miss this part of it – you meet the coolest people.” He grinned. “We won’t bother you, just wanted to meet the freaks, you know? Dying art. Least it seems like Boswell treats you right, yeah?”

“He’s good,” Walter agreed.

Clint beamed. “Great.” Humming happily, he wandered over to the next tent, pausing to read the small notice posted there. “Phil!”

“I’m right here, pretty bird.” Phil tugged Natasha closer, chuckling. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“My title is in danger!”

There was no actual alarm in Clint’s voice, but it still gave Phil a moment’s worry. “What title is that?”

Clint pointed urgently at the flyer. “This gal claims to be the best archer in the world, Phil! The damned world! She’s stealing my shtick!” 

Cooper gasped theatrically, which made Natasha giggle. “I’m sure she doesn’t know the title is taken, dearling,” Natasha assured him, trying to hide her amusement… unsuccessfully.

“I cannot believe this,” Clint grumbled. “Of all the carnie crews – we have to run into one with an archer. Really?”

“Is she better than you, Uncle Clint?” Cooper asked, tugging at Clint’s sleeve. 

“Of course not,” Clint scoffed. But there was a flicker of doubt in his mind that both spouses heard. {Damn it, stop seeing my insecurities.}

Phil slipped his arm around Clint’s waist. “Maybe we should meet her, see how good she really is?”

“Yeah!” Cooper agreed immediately, and Clint fought a groan.

“Sure, kiddo.” Clint tugged once on the edge of the archer’s tent before poking his head in. “Accepting visitors?”

Inside the tent, a woman about Laura’s age sat crochet a multicolored scarf – and in the center doing a handstand, there was a small figure in purple sequins. Clint was irrationally irritated that not only was she stealing his shtick, she was doing it in his color. The sparkly figure dropped forward onto her feet and sprung up to wave, her pigtails bouncing madly. “Hi!”

Cooper covered his mouth with his hands. “Uncle Clint! She’s a girl!”

“Well, yeah, Coop. Don’t act like girls can’t be kickbutt archers too.”

The girl giggled. “Hi! My name’s Kate.”

Phil and Natasha moved into the line of sight as well. “Hi, Kate. My name is Phil – this is Natasha. That is Clint and our nephew Cooper. Are you the archer, then?”

“Yep!” She brandished a bow seized from the floor. For all her childish enthusiasm, she handled it with sure hands. “Are you going to come to the show this evening?”

“We just might.” Clint let Cooper down onto the ground, but the boy clung to his leg. “You don’t need to be shy, kiddo. Say hi.”

Cooper waved shyly. “I didn’t expect you to be a kid,” he confided to the girl.

“I’m ten!” Kate announced cheerfully. “I’ll start fifth grade in the fall, cool, huh?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll be in first grade,” Cooper told her. He looked up at Clint in entreaty.

Not only was this a stranger, but it was a girl-shaped stranger who was older and cool – Clint could sympathize with the panic. “Can I see your bow?” Clint asked. The girl looked to the woman first – family resemblance made Clint guess it was her mother. “How about if I introduce myself better first.” He knelt down closer to the girl’s eyeline. “Hi. My name’s Clint Barton, but a long time ago – when I was about your age, actually – people started calling me The Amazing Hawkeye.”

Kate’s eyes grew very wide. “I saw you on TV!” She thrust her bow at him. “You used a bow against the chitterings!”

“Chitauri,” Phil corrected immediately. “Yes, he did.” He made a mental note to speak to someone… Maria, maybe… about the press coverage of the Battle. He’d been too tired and scattered yesterday to register how odd it was that people in Walmart evidently recognized both his spouses… and knew at least Clint’s name. Figuring out his identity wasn’t a complete challenge – the bow was a recognizable weapon – but if Natasha’s name was being broadcast as well… yes, some investigation was necessary.

The woman set aside her crochet and looked hard at the triad and Cooper. “What trouble brings you to Boswell’s Band?”

“No trouble, ma’am,” Clint said immediately. “Brought my nephew out to the carnival – we’re just in town visiting family. Nothing to be concerned about.” He smiled at her, trying to project calm. {Is that something we’re gonna have to deal with now? Everybody who recognizes us assumes we’re here because shit’s going down?}

{Probably,} Natasha sighed internally. “Did you know Clint’s favorite color is purple too?” she asked the girl. “I thought it was all him, but maybe it’s an archer thing.”

“Your toenails are purple, Nat – don’t go casting stones,” Clint teased.

“My toenails are purple because they match your uniform,” she shot back, smiling. “Do you have somewhere you practice, Kate?” Natasha asked, shifting her attention back to the girl. “Maybe you and Clint can get some range time.”

The girl’s face fell. “I’m not allowed to take strangers to the practice field. Boss said.” She scuffed her toe in the dirt. “But! Maybe Mister Boswell will let you come shoot in the show with me, a’cuz you’re Hawkeye!”

“Oh, I don’t know—” Phil began.

Cooper squealed and threw his hands up in the air, twirling to look at Clint. “You hafta, Uncle Clint! You’ll be AMAZING, it’s right there in your name, pleasepleaseplease?”

Clint knew a trap when he saw it – but there was no way he was going to disappoint his nephew. “If Mister Boswell agrees, sure. I’d love to.”

~ * ~


	6. Chapter 6

There were several hours between Kate’s ecstatic invitation and the appointed showtime – hours which Cooper insisted they fill by riding rides and playing fairway games. The rides were relegated primarily to Auntie Nat – but the games were all Uncle Clint.

“It feels like cheating,” Phil murmured to Natasha, watching Clint select a brace of darts to throw at a wall of balloons. “He knows how they all work.”

“Yeah… but he’s still got to hit the throws,” Natasha pointed out reasonably. “Not that it’s much of a challenge… how many hours does he spend throwing darts in your office?”

“More than he should,” Phil said, amused.

“Y’all gonna play, or just stand there jawing?” the carnie barked.

Cooper wrinkled his nose. “That’s not very polite.”

Phil tugged at the boy’s hand. “No, it wasn’t. Your momma expects better manners from you, young Mister Barton.”

Clint tuned them out, paying attention only to the dart in his hand, the target – and Cooper, bouncing just off to his right. Situational awareness training was apparently going to be very useful for parenting. Expertly he flicked a dart into one of the high value targets – these were not just color-coded, but had small markings obscured by the balloons. It had taken a few minutes – waiting for a breeze to waft the balloons just enough – for Clint to determine the pattern and mark out his intended targets. In under a minute, he launched – and landed – a dozen darts. 

The carnie at the booth tried to look impassive, but his eyes were wide. “Nice shootin’, man.”

“Thanks.” Clint brushed his hands together, the picture of satisfaction. “I used to spend a lot of time in bars… before I settled down.” He tapped his wedding ring, winking. “So, what kind of prize did I win for my nephew?”

Upon a gesture from the carnie, Clint hefted Cooper up onto his shoulders to examine the large plush animals hanging from a clothesline. “Is it for me, Uncle Clint?”

“Sure thing, kiddo… unless you want to pick it out for your sister.”

Cooper thought very hard about that. “Can I pick one for Momma? She’s been kinda sad.”

Something squeezed in Clint’s heart. “Absoposilutely, Cooperino.”

After much deliberation, Cooper selected a bright red unicorn with gold hooves and horn. “It’s Momma’s favorite colors,” Cooper told them happily, hugging the plush animal tightly to him. “They make her smile.”

{And now I’m going to have to tease her about Iron Man,} Clint told his spouses silently. {But… maybe not until I figure out what Coop meant by her being sad.}

Phil’s mind reflected his worry. {It could be nothing…}

{Yeah, but we already know something’s off with her. She’s… something’s off,} Clint repeated. {One of us will need to corner her about it.}

They meandered farther down the fairway, taking turns carrying the plushie and holding Cooper’s hand. Clint was being very selective about what games they played – nothing that was an outright scam, but nothing he could win without skill, either. Most stalls he did a single round, mostly to chat with the carnie manning the stall. Phil and Natasha mostly stood back and watched, their fingers linked together. {Is he… did he just whiff that throw?} Phil asked Natasha as privately as he could.

{Looks like it,} Natasha confirmed, leaning into Phil’s side. 

{Why…?}

Clint looked back over his shoulder at his spouses as he collected a handful of prize tokens. {Boswell’s a good crew boss. His carnival isn’t all about fleecing rubes. I’m not about to flimflam him.}

{Huh.} A slow, charmed smile grew on Phil’s face. {Is this some sort of carnie code of conduct?}

{See, I’ve been walking out with this gent with real manners – they seem to be rubbing off on me.} Clint’s answering smile was a little embarrassed and a lot loving. {Or maybe I get it from my lovely wife, who answers to her own code.}

Natasha tilted her head against Phil’s shoulder, smiling at Clint. {Or maybe you’ve got a noble soul, dearling, and you’re just not used to other people seeing it.}

{Shh, we can’t let the kids know that,} Clint winked at her. {They’ll never let me live it down.}

“Uncle Phil!” Cooper was bouncing again – Phil thought idly that they should check his shoes for springs. “You should play the shoot ‘em game!”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Well… I don’t know…”

“Pleeeeeeease?”

“You are a menace,” Phil said with false harshness. “A terrible menace.”

Cooper grinned at him, seizing his hand and tugging him towards the shooting gallery. “Are you a better shot than Uncle Clint?”

“Am I?” Phil asked his husband, lips quirking. “You never challenged my scores at SHIELD.”

“Better to let the baby agents tremble in terror at the feet of Legendary Agent Coulson,” Clint grinned. “But yeah… with your sidearm, you beat me. I own you with a rifle, though.”

“You own me regardless, pretty bird.” Phil caught Clint with his free hand and tugged him close for a brief kiss. “Alright, Cooper. Let’s do your shoot ‘em up game.” He handed over the fee, made a point of rolling his shoulders – Natasha was laughing at him – and took hold of the air gun. “Hmmm.”

It took him two shots to have the measure of the weapon – and he missed none, after that. Drawing on his new Gaia gifts, he knew where to hit the weighted targets – based on tiny fluctuations in the air moment, or the way they vibrated when he hit near. Dinner plates and bowling pins fell with perfect accuracy. Just for the hell of it, Phil lined up several shots that not only knocked over the bowling pin but sent it careening into several others. 

“Show off,” Clint muttered.

Cooper bounced again – seriously, springs! – and tugged at Phil’s hand. “That was awesome!”

The carnie was less impressed. “Y’all military?”

Natasha laughed – a bright peal that made her husbands grin foolishly. “Not exactly,” she said, her eyes still dancing. “He was a Ranger,” she said, pointing to Phil, “and he was… well. Free-lance,” she smirked at Clint. 

“And you, ma’am?”

Her smile grew wolfish. “Oh, I’m something far deadlier than military.”

“Be nice, love,” Phil chided. “No scaring the civilians.”

The man – roughly thirtyish, though years of hard living could have aged him prematurely – blanched. “You’re that chick from the news,” he breathed.

“Natasha Barton-Coulson,” she introduced herself, holding her hand out. “My husbands Phil,” she nodded to one side, “and Clint. The tiny terror is our nephew Cooper.”

She’d expected the once-over from the carnie, a trailing of eyes along her. She hadn’t expected the tension from her husbands. “Damn,” he breathed. “Yeah, you look like the kind of woman that takes twice as much man to satisfy her.”

“Careful,” Phil bit out.

“I’m fine, loverling,” Natasha murmured. “It was a compliment.” She stroked her hand down his arm. Was this protectiveness for their barely-conceived child? “I’m sure he’s harmless… isn’t he?” She shifted her eyes back to the carnie, who recoiled.

“Yes ma’am. Uhhh… umm…. I’m Zeke, Zeke Guzman,” he offered in a stumbling drawl. “It’s real good to meet you, ma’am. Sirs.”

“Mmmhmm.” Phil didn’t look happy about it. He flicked the grip of the air gun where it was tethered to the booth. “Coop, why don’t you see what prizes the nice man has for you to pick from? Something for your sister, maybe?”

Zeke’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Oh, yeah! C’mon, little dude.” He gestured at a string of plushies much like the one Cooper had picked from at the dart throw. “Whatcha think? S’for your sister, he said? Maybe something pink?”

Cooper wrinkled his nose. “Lila doesn’t like pink, and Daddy says it’s too princessy.” He folded his arms, looking up at the animals. “How about that yellow dragon?”

Dragon safely acquired, they wandered farther down. Clint kept checking his watch. “I think I’ll go find Boswell and Kate,” he said to Phil. “Get warmed up for the show. Find a costume. You guys’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be fine, pretty bird.” Phil tugged him in for a kiss, shifting aside so that Natasha could have one as well. “See you at the show.”

~ * ~

Clint found his way back through the carnival to the freak tents – which were adjacent both to the roped off training area and the largest performance space. Boswell was waiting for him, leaning up against a sandbagged barrier. “Let’s get you some gear and jazz,” the crew boss said, jerking his chin at Clint. “Then I’ll set you loose on the training ground. An hour enough prep before the show?”

“I’ve done more on less.” It wasn’t hubris – for all it had been decades since his performing days, Clint didn’t consider himself out of condition. The work he did for SHIELD wasn’t that different, really… except for where his shots landed. At the circus, it had been a bad day indeed if his arrow had struck a living creature.

Clint had no idea how many lives he’d taken with drawing of string and loosing of arrow.

(Or, for that matter, with the sidearm he habitually wore, and only drew in a true emergency.)

It didn’t surprise him to be led to the acrobats for costuming – there was usually enough turnover there that spare bits of costume accumulated. He didn’t mind being flashy – but there wasn’t a whole outfit in his preferred purple. Instead, he had to mix and match. Thinking of Natasha’s habits when dressing them, he opted for red, blue, and purple – gaudy and glittery, complete with a jaunty cap that looked near as nevermind to Robin Hood’s woodsman cap. 

Satisfied with his physical appearance, Clint moved next to the available tools – a couple of bows and some other theatrical props that he examined but ultimately discarded. He tested the weight and draw of each of the bows, finally choosing a light modern recurve – something that was deceptively difficult to wield. This little beauty – Clint mentally named her Eleanor, because he wasn’t going to spend an afternoon with her without giving her a name – looked simple. Hell, she looked like she belonged in a Disney movie, or any other film with an archer. But it took more skill to be accurate with a light lady like this one than with a compound bow like his Lucille. She was a tough broad – designed and crafted by the brightest minds in SHIELD’s engineering and production departments to take advantage of every smidgen of his skill. He doubted Tony Stark himself could better mold a bow to his needs… though perhaps Cormac, the druid known as the Elder Craftsman, might manage it.

\\\He would be delighted to craft such a weapon for you, Boghdoir,// Gaia assured Clint when he stepped out onto the packed ground of the practice space. He wasn’t barefoot, but the thin-soled slippers he was wearing didn’t provide much protection. He thought their connections to Gaia must be strengthening, for Her to reach them so much more easily.

{Hi, Mama.} Carefully, Clint set Eleanor on the ground next to him and flowed into a series of stretches. It had the dual purpose of warming up his muscles and allowing him to focus on his Goddess. {So, before I do this thing. Um. Is there a rule against using our Gifts for, like, personal gain? Am I going to get whammied with bad juju for using You to show off?}

There was a susurration across the ground, the soft noise easing the worst of Clint’s anxiety. \\\I do not know where you come by these notions, Boghdoir. No, there is no penance for using your Gifts, regardless of your purpose or intention. They are but tools, to be used as thou will.//

Clint grinned to himself. {I totally saw it on a TV show, Mama. But I’m glad it was wrong.} He twisted himself into an impossible-looking position that somehow eased tension in his back.

He’d worked through his entire stretching routine before he heard anyone approach. Looking up, he found a nervous looking Kate followed closely by her mother and Boswell. “Hey, kid.” Clint straightened up from the pretzel-like position he’d held and picked Eleanor up. “Ready for some arrow fun?”

“Sure.” 

She didn’t look ready – she looked petrified. “What’s up, Katie-did?” Clint crouched near her, peering at her eyes. “You know this is just for kicks, right? Like, I’m not after your job. I’ve got a job.”

Kate bit her lip. “But… you’re…”

Clint looked from the girl to Boswell. “Is this going to be a problem, Boss?” Clint asked in a low voice. “Because I’m not doing an exhibition of anything if it puts a squeeze on the little miss.”

“Her job’s guaranteed through the end of the summer,” Boswell assured Clint.

Looking to Kate’s mother – who still hadn’t introduced herself, Clint waited for a response. Nothing came. “Well. Alright then. You heard the boss, Kate. If he says you’re good, you’re good.”

“But you’re better! You’re Hawkeye!”

“Yeah, I am.” Clint drew Eleanor’s bowstring back, though he didn’t have an arrow in hand. “But like I said – I’ve got a job. I’m on vacation, kiddo – couple more weeks and I’ll be back to work. Even if this outfit is way cooler than what I wear otherwise,” he said with a grin, flicking his fingers at a swirl of sequins on his tunic. “I’ve done the circus – carnival – thing before. I’m not looking to do it again.” He reached out to ruffle the girl’s hair as he would Cooper’s but pulled back at the last minute. “Sorry, I won’t mess up your braids before a show.”

“Kate, why don’t you run through your show from the top,” Boswell suggested easily, “and Hawkeye can decide where he wants to jump in?”

Clint watched the routine with an experienced eye, picking out several opportunities. When Kate had finished, he nodded twice. “Okay. Here’s the plan, Katie-bug. I’m not going to make you run through it again – you’ll exhaust yourself. When we do it in the big top, you listen for this sound – ” he let out one of the distinctive Scooby whistles “ – and that means I’m jumping in for a bit. I’ll make the same noise to hand it back to you, and you pick up in the same spot. Okay? That way, you’re not having to learn any new choreography. If you miss a cue, don’t worry about it – I can work around you.”

Kate’s brows drew together. “Won’t that be super hard?”

“Hawkette.” Clint crouched down in front of her again, his eyes fondly amused. “Kiddo, a couple of days ago, I was shooting aliens from on top of a skyscraper in New York City. This stuff? This isn’t hard for me. It’s fun. Working around your routine is fun – it’s like fighting a battle where nobody gets hurt.”

She met his eyes with a seriousness he didn’t expect from a ten-year-old before nodding seriously. “Okay, Mister Hawkeye. If you say so.”

“Clint, please.” He squeezed her shoulder gently. “Let’s knock ‘em for a loop, kiddo.”

The big top filled up quickly – the show barkers had been doing their jobs. Kate wasn’t the only act on the playbill, but she appeared to be a popular one. Clint wondered if word of his participation had spread, or if Waverly was really just that hard up for entertainment on a Sunday evening. 

Phil, Natasha, and Cooper were ringside – prime seats, and escorted there by Boswell himself. Cooper was beside himself, bouncing on his toes and squirming between them as he waited for his favorite uncle to appear. 

Clint was glad he was excited – and gladder still that his spouses were comfortable – but he had to push all of that aside to focus on the performance.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Boswell had the microphone now in the center of the ring, his casual attire traded for something that would make an eighties pimp feel underdressed. “My most esteemed guests! I would like to announce a slight change to our program this evening – we will be joined by a very special guest!” He paused for applause. “Dear friends, I am delighted to announce that this evening we will be joined by a man whose very name is synonymous with his art – an archer so renowned that he has no peer. Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight I have the very great pleasure of introducing to the stage The Amazing Hawkeye!”

After that, Clint was too busy to think of the audience. He wouldn’t classify it as a flawless show. Kate was still nervous, despite their time warming up. He pushed the crowd out of mind as well – paid attention only to his spouses and nephew, and to the ten-year-old girl sharing a stage with him.

He savored the warm approval from Phil and Natasha as he flawlessly executed a tumbling run that ended with him firing an arrow dead center at a bullseye from mid-air – blind. It looked impressive as hell, he knew… but more than that, it was a skill he used frequently. Hell, he’d killed a Chitauri with damned near the same move two days ago. Thinking of that – of the aliens crawling up his perch as his wife fought hand-to-hand on the ground – almost threw Clint off, but he rallied by focusing on the intense awe radiating from Kate and Cooper. 

Phil and Natasha watched him with amusement, devotion, and a little lust.

Cooper and Kate watched him like he was made of magic and heroism and goodness.

It was a balm he didn’t know he needed – soothed an ache he’d had no idea was there. He’d added a hell of a lot of red to his ledger, as his wife would say… but perfectly lining up a shot still gave the thrill of success, the high of skill. Loki hadn’t stolen that from him.

The act came to a close with a flourish – Kate balanced on a precarious platform, firing arrows balanced on one foot, and Clint shooting them out of the air as fast as she could fire them – and as they took triumphant bows, the artificial calm he’d surrounded himself with shattered.

Applause rang in his ears, at once both familiar and alien. It was raucous and enthusiastic, with cries of his callname and Kate’s, cheers and screams and clapping and – 

– it was too much. Far, far too much. Straightening from his final bow, Clint staggered under the weight of the crowd’s regard. {Crap. I have to get out of here.} 

{Are you having an episode?} Phil asked – and Clint wanted to cry, because his husband managed to sound both calm and concerned, all while tucking away any emotion that might shred Clint’s control.

{Not… quite… but I’ve got to bail here, Moonbeam. Sorry, Sunshine. I’ve got – I need to get out of this costume and get somewhere quiet before I lose my damned mind.}

Natasha slung an arm around Cooper’s shoulders as the next act started. {Go. Take the van back to the farm. You can come get us later, or we can find a ride. Take yourself home to Laura, dearling… get some Lila cuddles. Deep breaths for us.}

Clint paused in the act of stripping off his borrowed costume pieces, leaning his head against his forearm, braced against a pole. {I’m breathing. It’s a good plan, Sunshine. What are you going to tell Cooper?}

{The truth.} Phil glanced at Natasha. {At least, a version of it. The crowd bothered you – they’re still calling for you to come back out, pretty bird – so you went home.}

{I love you both,} Clint’s mind murmured to theirs. {Take care of Cooperino for me. I’ll see you at home.}

~ * ~


	7. Chapter 7

Boswell met Phil, Natasha, and Cooper at the exit of the big top, frowning. “He sure lit out of here,” Boswell said, looking at Phil.

“He’s fine.” Phil smiled a little. “It’s been a rough couple of days, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Mmmhmm.” The crew boss didn’t look convinced. “So long as it isn’t going to cause a problem. Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, his gaze primarily on Cooper.

“Yes! Uncle Clint is amazing!” Cooper bounced again, tugging at Phil’s hand. “He’s the bestest at bows and arrows ever. But Kate is really good too!”

Natasha slid her hand into Cooper’s other hand. “If she isn’t too tired, perhaps we can say goodnight to Kate before we move on to the rest of the games and rides? I don’t want her to think we ran out on her.”

Permission granted, they were led to the residential area – several small tents as well as half a dozen RVs. Kate was now in street clothes, sitting on the ground in front of her mother. The older woman was carefully unbraiding Kate’s hair and combing it out. “Hi!” Kate said immediately upon spotting Phil and Natasha. She looked around them. “Did Mister Hawkeye – did Clint leave?”

“He did,” Phil agreed, hunkering down next to Kate – though not close enough to be considered threatening. “He’s sorry, but he needed to go away – go home. He was fine until the show ended, and then he got…” Phil searched for a way to explain the panic of old memories to a child and settled for, “stage fright.”

Kate’s eyes went very wide. “He did?”

“Yep.” Natasha sank down cross legged next to the girl, tugging Cooper into her lap. “He hadn’t performed like that in a long time. The stuff he does for work looks a lot like that, and he’s really good at it – but it’s a lot different to do it for applause. He had a lot of fun shooting with you though, Kate.”

“We won’t keep you,” Phil added, smiling at both girl and mother, “we just wanted to tell you we enjoyed the show – as did Clint.”

“I’m glad.” Kate squirmed a little before looking back up at Phil. “Will you tell him he’s really awesome for me?”

Natasha smiled, and held out her hand to the girl. When Kate took it, Natasha squeezed her fingers. “I’ll tell him.” She leaned around Cooper towards Kate. “You are very awesome too, young lady. Not just with the bow – you were a regular professional performer out there. You’ve got good presence on stage, and you seem to be good at reading the crowd. That’s a skill that’s valuable no matter what you do when you grow up.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Kate’s mother said, when Kate herself seemed not to know how to respond.

Phil smiled. “Nothing but the truth.” He rose to his feet, offering his hand to Cooper. “We’d better let her get some rest, young Mister Barton. What do you say we head down to the rides, and see if we can get you on the Ferris wheel?”

“Yeah!” Cooper cheered, bounding out of Natasha’s lap. She rose, smiling. “G’night, Kate! Thanks for letting Uncle Clint play with you!”

They waved again as they left the area, Cooper chattering cheerfully as he clung to both Phil and Natasha’s hands. They headed for the Ferris wheel as promised, joining the line of carnival goers already waiting. “What’s been your favorite part of the day so far, Cooper?” Phil asked, smiling down at the boy.

“Asides from watching Uncle Clint?” Cooper bounced on his toes, thinking. “Prolly watching you guys at the games. You’re really good!”

Phil chuckled and slung his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “We have to be good at it, kiddo. It’s our job.”

Cooper peered up at Natasha. “Are you good at shoot ‘em up games, too? You didn’t play.”

“I’m better at some of the others,” Natasha evaded. She was a good shot – not as good as either of her husbands, but no slouch either. “Maybe after we’re ridden a few rides, I can show you?”

“Yeah!” Cooper beamed at her. “I bet you’re awesome at ‘em. You’re good at everything.”

{He’s awfully good for your ego, love,} Phil remarked silently, his eyes dancing with amusement.

{Oh, hush.} Natasha shot him a look but couldn’t hide her own delight. “I’m not good at everything, Coop.”

“Just a lot of things,” Phil murmured, winking at Cooper.

They reached the head of the line, and the carnie there eyed the three of them. “Two to a car,” he mumbled.

Cooper looked crestfallen. “But!”

“No sir, young Mister Barton – we follow the rules,” Phil chided. “Do you want me or your Auntie Nat to ride with you?”

The boy looked between them, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. “Uncle Phil. And then we’ll get back in line and Auntie Nat can go next.”

“Very fair,” Phil complimented solemnly. He winked at Natasha as he and Cooper were strapped into a car. “You have to hold onto this bar, kiddo – your mom would be very mad at me if you fell out and got hurt.”

Natasha watched from the ground as her husband and nephew were strapped into the car, and lifted up as the operator cycled it through to the next car for the next pair of passengers. Cooper waved madly and Natasha waved back, smiling. 

Her cell phone rang, and Natasha answered it without the smile budging at all. She was used to it now – the serendipity of phone calls. It no longer surprised her to discover a phone ringing at the precise moment she had time to talk – or that she needed to. It was one of the subtler miracles of being Chosen of Gaia – but one she appreciated very much. 

“Hey, Ria,” Natasha answered, looking up at the Ferris wheel. “How’s my favorite SHIELD agent?”

Maria blew out a long breath. “Overworked, underpaid, and I have no fucking idea how you handled being a wife and our matriarch without losing your goddamn mind.”

Ah. Natasha shifted the bulk of her attention to the call. “I’m guessing it’s that last one that’s most pressing. Missing Misty?”

“I said goodbye to her on the helicarrier less than thirty-six hours ago. I shouldn’t feel this strung out already – should I?” Maria asked, very quietly.

Natasha found a bench and sat down, waving again at Cooper as the Ferris wheel started to move. She flashed the hand signal for Maria’s name to Phil automatically before remembering the telepathy – felt his amusement in her mind before shifting back to her clanmate. “It isn’t about should and shouldn’t, Maria. You love her. You miss her. Knowing she’s safe at Stark Tower helps, but it doesn’t make the missing go away. That’s okay.”

“We haven’t been apart this long since February,” Maria whispered. “Not since – and she’s not just my bunny now, and – ”

To Natasha’s surprise, Maria was choked up. She wished like hell she could planewalk as Catriona did. “It’s okay to be upset,” Natasha assured her softly. “It’s okay to cry because you miss her and the cricket. There’s no shame in loving them, laoch scail.” She glanced up at the Ferris wheel. {Phil… are any of the Scoobies near Ria? She needs a hug.}

{Where is she?}

“Are you alone, Maria? In your office?” Natasha asked.

“I’m at my old apartment,” Maria answered, sniffling. “I went to Misty’s first but – it’s weird, her not being there, and I… I didn’t want to spend another night alone there.”

Phil consulted the Scooby chat. {Angie’s not far, she’s been packing at CJ’s place. Give her a few minutes, and she should be to Maria.}

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” Natasha asked Maria. She kept her voice calm and level, knowing that any emotion on her part was likely to make Maria shut down. The senior agent complied. “Okay. Now listen to me, Ria – it’s okay to miss her. I’m glad you reached out. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“I didn’t want to call and upset her,” Maria murmured. “Have her hear me upset. Make her think I was angry or something. I know she’s safer in New York, at the Tower – I know Rogers and the pixie and the kid are keeping her safe.”

“They are,” Natasha agreed. “And I get not wanting to upset her – but it’s okay to call to tell her you love her. I do, if I have to be apart from my husbands. Tell them, I mean. I try to hide how much it hurts, but – well, even before the Gaia bond, Phil always knew. But I usually felt better after I talked to him, even though it made me miss them more. It’s… the missing is proof that the love’s for real, you know?” Natasha asked softly.

“Yeah.” Maria sniffled again. “Sorry to turn the waterworks on you.”

Natasha snorted. “I’d be way more upset if you didn’t think you could cry on my shoulder. I cried on yours not that long ago. Turnabout’s fair play.”

Maria huffed out a laugh. “I suppose.” There was a rustling noise, followed by muffled cursing. “Damn it, Angie, don’t sneak up on a damned SHIELD agent.”

“It’s not sneaking up on when I have a key, it’s not my fault you didn’t hear me unlocking the door,” Angie said. “Is that still Natasha? Hey! How’s Iowa?”

“You sicced a Scooby on me?” Maria hissed into the phone. “Ack – Angie!”

From the ruckus, Natasha could guess that Angie had already deployed her hug. “I made use of all the available resources, Hill. You needed a hug and I’m too far away. I delegated.”

Maria hummed, and after a moment’s rustling, Angie came over the phone. “I’ve got her now, Nascha. We’ll do some packing, order Chinese, and since Buffy’s not here we can break out the beer. I promise to take good care of her for you.”

“I know you will, bleachtaire.” And if taking care of Maria also ensured that Angie would eat dinner – and feel useful – Natasha would be doubly grateful. “Give her my love, and keep some for yourself.”

“It’s really, really cute when you echo Mama Diane,” Maria told Natasha, laughing, and ended the call.

Natasha was still smiling when Phil and Cooper rejoined her. “Did you have fun, kiddo?”

“Yeah!” Cooper climbed up onto the bench next to her and wormed his way under her arm. “We saws you talking on the phone, and Uncle Phil said it was Aunt Maria. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Natasha assured him. She made a mental note to tell Maria she’d been adopted by Cooper too – it would probably make her smile. “She misses us, and she’s missing her sweetheart, too. But she’s okay.”

Cooper hummed thoughtfully. “You shouldsa brought her with you.”

She brushed the hair back from his forehead, looking up at Phil and smiling. “Maybe next time.” The idea of flooding the farm with Scoobies – of seeing Chuck wrestling Cooper on the grass or watching Sam bounce Lila on her hip… yeah. Natasha liked that idea a lot. She leaned in and kissed Cooper on the top of the head. “What do you want to do next, Cooperino?”

“You wanna ride the Ferris wheel with me?”

“Do you want to ride it again?” She’d noticed his tendency to immediately turn a question around – to opt for doing whatever would please his caregivers. It made her a little sad… Clint had the same impulse.

“Not really,” Cooper admitted. “But I will if you wanna.”

Phil sat down on the child’s other side, slipping his arm around Natasha’s shoulders. “I vote for watching your Auntie Nat play a few games before heading home.” 

“Okay!”

~ * ~

Clint made it back to the farm safely, though he didn’t remember much of the journey. It reminded him of how he’d felt in Wisconsin, after his last episode… after Papa Alex had called him son. This was… a different kind of upset. That had been tied to his father and a broken arm and being utterly helpless. This wasn’t that – this was instead tangled up with memories of performing and being applauded but knowing it wasn’t enough… he wasn’t enough.

He parked the van and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment before going in. After several long moments of breathing, Clint hauled himself up the farmhouse steps and into the kitchen.

“Laura, I’m home,” he called – not too loudly, in case Lila was asleep.

His sister-in-law appeared out of the living room, her forehead creased with worry. She had the baby in her arms but handed Lila easily to Clint when he opened his arms. “What’s wrong? Where’s Cooper?”

Clint cuddled Lila close to him, breathing in her safe baby smell. “Everyone’s fine. Coop’s still at the carnival with Nat and Phil. I needed… I had to get out of there.” He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against Lila’s soft blonde hair. “I did a show with their archer.”

Laura sucked in a breath. “You – Clint.” She reached for him, glad he didn’t pull away, and slid into the arm not occupied by her daughter. “Why did you do that?”

“To make Cooper smile. To make my spouses smile. I… wasn’t thinking.” He blew out a breath. “I’m a dumbass.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She reached up to ruffle his hair, an automatic gesture. It didn’t carry the warmth he’d expected – her hand wasn’t entirely steady either. “But maybe a little. Is this a coffee upset, whiskey upset, or ice cream?”

“All of the above?”

Laura smiled a little but there were shadows to it. “I can manage that. Kitchen or living room?”

“Living room,” Clint decided after a moment. “And I need a quilt. Or an afghan.”

“There’s one already on the couch.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek. A portion of his mind – the fraction not allocated to preventing a full-scale meltdown – noted the lack of grace in the movement. “Let me get you a cup of coffee. Go ahead and get situated.”

Clint carried Lila into the living room and found he’d interrupted nesting already in progress. There was an afghan still in a warm circle at one end of the couch. A mug of tea – still hot. A plate of Milano cookies. A bottle of Jameson whiskey. That was… curious. Laura didn’t drink – or very rarely – and he’d never known her to choose whiskey over wine.

Mulling that over, he sat on the far end of the couch and tucked his feet up underneath himself, cuddling Lila close. Laura entered with a mug of coffee, handing it to him before lifting the whiskey bottle, gesturing to his cup. At his nod, she poured until he stopped her. 

They were silent for some time, just sipping their doctored beverages and wrapping up in the afghan. Lila was drowsy, and the heavy weight of the child in his arms was more relaxing than Clint had expected. “I’d better get in all the cuddling practice I can,” Clint murmured to the baby. 

“Why’s that?” Laura asked. Clint glanced up at her tone – the hand holding her tea had tightened.

“One of the fledglings – Misty – is pregnant,” Clint explained after a moment. They’d agreed not to tell anyone about the hitchhiker yet… but the cricket was fair game. “She’s due in October. Late October. There’ll be lots of snuggling and cuddling.”

Clint was looking at her as he spoke – keen eyes on her, though he hadn’t expected her reaction. Tears pooled in her eyes. Alarmed, Clint set aside his spiked coffee and scooted closer to Laura as she set her teacup down, added another slug of whiskey to it, and picked it up with hands that quivered like – like – like leaves in a breeze. “Lo?” he asked softly, reaching to put his hand on her wrist.

She didn’t look up – but whatever composure she’d hung on to faltered at his words, unraveling as though he’d tugged on a loose thread. He plucked the tea cup from her hand and set it next to his on the coffee table before wrapping her and Lila in his arms and rocking them against his chest. He didn’t speak – experience with Natasha had told him that sometimes the best way to comfort was with silence – but he tried to make that silence welcoming. Between them, Lila squirmed and then settled into a light doze.

“I… was pregnant,” Laura whispered into Clint’s neck. 

And oh, those three words told a story he didn’t like. His arms tightened around her. {Nat… I need back-up.}

{You’re doing fine so far,} Natasha assured him immediately. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened, or would you like me not to ask?” Clint offered Laura. “I can do either.”

Laura wiped at her eyes. “You can ask. There’s not much to tell. I was pregnant, and now I’m not.”

“When…?”

“The miscarriage was two weeks ago. I hadn’t known very long… only a month…” Laura tried to stifle the tears. “My doctor said it just… happens, sometimes.”

Clint tucked her closer against him, mindful of Lila. “I’m so sorry, Laura.”

“It’s… it’s not like we wanted more, anyway,” Laura whispered. “Barney was mad when I found out I was pregnant… he’ll probably be glad.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Clint found himself still rocking his sister-in-law, much as he would Lila or Cooper after a nightmare. “He doesn’t know yet?” Barney was an utter bastard, but Clint didn’t think he was that cruel – to be happy about something that so upset his wife.

She shook her head against his neck. “He was already on this last mission when…”

“And here we just landed on you with no warning while you’re going through shit,” Clint murmured. “I’m sorry, sweetie. If we’d known…”

“No, it’s good that you’re here. I was just beating myself up.” Laura sighed, twisting a little so that she could stroke her fingers through Lila’s downy soft hair. “I don’t mean to cry all over you. I’m hormonal and hurting. Everything I’d read about miscarriage made it seem like a quick thing. Turns out it’s really not.”

“Pretty sure that getting cried on is part of big brother duties,” Clint said lightly. “I’d do it for my fledglings, so… shoulder’s fair game for you too, Lo.” He stroked her hair softly. “What else can I do to help? Pick up more chores around the house? You want us to take over bedtime duties? You name it.”

Tears filled her eyes again and she wiped them away irritably. “You’re doing it. Just… just be here.” Laura rested against him. “Do you have to tell Nat and Phil?”

“Kinda hard to keep secrets from them,” Clint admitted ruefully. “But we don’t have to talk about it. Phil’s wicked good at pretending he doesn’t know – and you know Nat, she’d never bring something up that you don’t want to talk about. Me, one hundred percent – but you’re safe.” He kissed her temple. “But I’m supposed to tell you that they love you too.”

That brought a fresh wave of tears, but Clint thought this time they were more therapeutic.

~ * ~

Laura’s cell rang while they were cuddling. With an apologetic look at Clint, she answered it. “Hi, Sandra. No, now’s fine.” She rolled her eyes at Clint and mouthed, “PTA stuff.”

Smiling, he extracted himself from the couch and wandered away to give her some privacy… which also gave him a chance to make a call of his own. Natasha and Phil might both think he was handling Laura’s grief just fine, but he thought since he had the chance he’d consult an expert.

“Well, hello lovey,” Diane greeted when she answered the phone. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Clint blew out a long breath. “Needed mom advice.” It was rare for him to use that particular moniker – but it didn’t sting as much. He hoped it was because of the hitchhiker – hoped that knowing Natasha would be a mom was softening the word. “Have you ever… how should I handle…” Diane waited patiently, not interrupting him as he struggled for words. “If somebody – who isn’t Natasha and isn’t Misty – had a miscarriage…”

Diane was immediately grateful that he’d prefaced the statement with ‘not Misty’ although somewhat curious why he’d also specified ‘not Natasha.’ That bore thinking about. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“The most important thing is to make sure she knows you still love her,” Diane answered. “How long has it been?” When Clint told her, she hummed thoughtfully. “At two weeks she’s through the worst of the physical stuff, but the hormones and emotions are probably rough. Just be there for her, lovey. Cuddles and cookies, mostly.”

He chuckled, rubbing his forehead. “I should have known that would be your advice. Aren’t those your remedies for everything?”

“Sometimes I add tea and time.”

“I can do those too.” He was quiet for a moment. “I kinda wish I could just pack her and the kids up and bring them with us to Wisconsin. I feel like you’d do a better job of comforting her than I – we – can.”

Diane chuckled a little. “You know I’d welcome your family here, but I don’t know that it’s the right thing to do for – her name’s Laura, right? – familiar surroundings probably help more. And from the sounds of it, you’re doing all the right things, s—Clint.” Diane bit back a curse – she’d almost called him ‘son’ and adding a panic attack to his current mental state wouldn’t help anyone.

To Clint’s surprise, that sharply bit off familial term didn’t burn at the edges of his trauma this time. Perhaps that was something to explore, when they got to the Inn – because the idea of Diane and Alex Coulson considering him their son wasn’t as frightening as it had been. “I told Laura that you’d probably mother her, if she wanted. And Cooper that you’d grandma him.”

“You’d be correct in that, lovey.” Diane’s smile was evident in her voice. “Give Laura my number. Even if she doesn’t call – she’ll know she can.” 

“Right.” Clint glanced up, seeing Laura wrapping up her PTA call. “I should go. I can’t wait to see you Saturday,” he added, almost shyly.

“You love me for my baking,” Diane teased. “I’ll see you soon, lovey. Six more sleeps, as I tell my grandchildren.”

Clint felt the warmth of her love despite the miles. “Six more sleeps,” he agreed. They said goodbye and Clint tucked the phone back into his pocket, returning to the couch nest. By the time a cab arrived carrying an exhausted Cooper and Clint’s spouses, he and Laura were nearly asleep themselves, curled up together under a granny square afghan.

~ * ~


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn’t unusual for one of the triad to have a phone ringing at eight o’clock on a Monday morning, but Clint was kind of surprised to have it happen today. He’d assumed that one of the benefits of resigning was not getting phone calls at eight o’clock in the morning.

Phil and Natasha were in the kitchen making breakfast with Laura, so Clint slipped into the living room to answer his cell. “Angeleyes,” he greeted when the call connected. “What can I do for my favorite hacker?”

“Um.” In his mind’s eye, he could see Angie biting her lower lip. “Yeah, so, you know I had Maria duty last night, right?”

“Yeah – everything okay?”

“Ria’s fine, but like – that’s why I didn’t see this until this morning,” Angie hurried on. “I should have caught it last night but there was booze and I have a no-mixing-Twitter-with-booze rule, and—”

Clint’s eyebrow shot up. “Spit it out, bleachtaire.”

Angie sucked in a breath and blew it out noisily. “There’s videos of your archery show all over Twitter. I have some alerts set up to catch mentions of you guys on social media and… I’m sorry, Clint, I should have caught it last night but it steamrollered overnight and now it’s huge and—”

“More than one video?” Clint interrupted.

“Yeah.” Another noisy breath. “Lots more.”

Well. That was… he didn’t know what that was. Clint sat down on the nearest flat surface, which turned out to be the coffee table. “I’m half afraid to ask what the response is like.”

“Um. Well. A lot of them are tagged #AmazingHawkeye which is cool and awesome and— ”

“And the not awesome ones?” They’d all learned – nervous Angie babbled, and the only way to get to the end of a conversation with her was to cut her off. Thankfully, she never took it badly… she was as aware of the babbling as they were.

“One of the top trending tags is #AbsentAvengers but there’s… well, there’s other stuff too. Somebody from CNN has interviewed a bunch of people there in Waverly already and they. Um. They posted an article that includes stuff about all three of you.” 

Clint groaned. “Damn it, this is not how I wanted to go public.”

“I’m really sorry, Clint,” Angie said, meek as the churchmouse that Chuckles often called her.

“I’m not mad at you, Angeleyes,” Clint said immediately. “Jesus. This isn’t your fault. I should have thought of it last night – hell, Nat and Phil should have too. You’d think by now I’d be used to the prevalence of camera phones, but it still manages to shock me.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You said it’s on Twitter? Do I have a Twitter account?”

“You do now. I’m sending you an email with logins for you, Nat, and Sensei,” Angie said. Her voice was still soft. “All set up and with the magic verified checkmark, even.”

“I don’t know what that means, little mouse,” Clint sighed. “But okay.” He rubbed his forehead. “Okay, I’m going to go talk to Phil and Nat and we’ll… soldier on.”

Angie huffed out a small laugh. “If you need another brain on it, I can pull free of packing. Misty would probably be better at this stuff, though. At least the strategizing part.”

“You’re plenty good enough,” Clint argued mildly. He hated it when she put herself down – and knew it was hypocritical of him, given how often he was guilty of the same. “Does that mean you’ve already alerted Buffy?”

“No.” Damn it, Clint hated it that she sounded afraid of him. “I didn’t want to worry her and I wasn’t sure if this was something you’d need her for anyway I mean, the only way she’s better than Sensei at this shit is because she grew up on social media—” she sucked in a breath. “But like, as soon as she opens Facebook or Twitter she’ll see it, it’s every-fucking-where.”

“I wasn’t under the impression she had much time on her hands,” Clint objected mildly.

Angie gasped – only half in jest. “There is always time for social media, Trey.”

He’d never been called that before – wasn’t entirely certain what she meant by it. But given how shaky she still sounded, he wasn’t going to call her on it. “If you say so, Angeleyes.” He rubbed his face again. “We’ll get back to you with a plan. Thanks for the heads-up – and don’t you dare feel guilty for taking care of Maria for us,” he added. They hung up and Clint walked back into the kitchen, phone in his hand.

“I heard,” Phil assured him. He already had his phone in hand and was downloading the Twitter app. “We’d best take a look at what’s being said before we decide how to respond, hmm?”

Laura poured more coffee into her own mug before topping off Clint and Phil’s – Natasha was drinking tea instead again this morning. “You want to fill me in?”

Phil lifted one inquiring eyebrow at his spouses and, receiving no negative shake of the head, pushed his phone towards Laura. Open on the screen was the top trending video on Twitter, of The Amazing Hawkeye balanced on one foot on a tightrope, rapid-firing arrows at small discs being thrown into the air by a clown.

“Um.” Laura blinked. “Okay. So. You’re on Twitter.”

Clint sank into his seat next to Phil and pulled out his own phone, following Angie’s emailed instructions to access some of the less savory content. “Oh, fuck me sideways,” he breathed when he read the headline.

“I’d rather not,” Phil murmured. “Watch your language, pretty bird. Cooper’s not up yet, but he will be soon.” 

“Sorry.” Clint scrubbed his hands down his face and reread the headline. It didn’t get any more polite. ‘HEROES’ OF BATTLE OF NEW YORK REVEALED TO BE SEXUAL DEVIANTS was the most polite of them. HEROES OR WHORES? Read another – which he objected to on principal. There was no call for suggesting any of them were sex workers and really… what would that prove anyway?

“Clint.” Natasha reached for his hand, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You know we’re not angry, right? Tell me you know that. You said it to Angie, but did you mean it?”

“Of course I did,” he murmured, but wasn’t sure that he wasn’t lying to himself. Another headline popped up – WHO ARE THOSE MASKED MEN? ‘AVENGERS’ REVEALED TO BE FORMER CARNIE AND ASSASSIN. “Okay, that’s just – ” Clint snapped, and started typing.

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @ZNN_Entertainment: I’ve never hidden my carnival background, and I’m not ashamed of it – but I’d really prefer if you didn’t call my wife both a man and an assassin in the same headline.

Laura let out a deeply disappointed sigh. “Clint. Didn’t they ever teach you not to feed trolls?”

He rolled his eyes at his sister-in-law. “They can say whatever the hell they want to about me – but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit by while they talk shit about Natasha.”

“Language,” Phil repeated patiently – but he didn’t otherwise criticize Clint’s response… out loud. Privately, it was a different matter. {Don’t you think it was a little premature to respond?}

Clint’s eyes narrowed on his husband. {No. Not when they’re talking smack about Nat.}

{We should have a strategy in place – because Natasha isn’t the only one they’re talking about, Clint.} Phil’s tone was exasperated. {And you’re just going to get—} The phone in Clint’s hand began to buzz with notifications. “Bombarded,” Phil finished aloud. “Damn it, pretty bird.”

Laura looked between them, and at Natasha’s troubled expression. “Okay. You’re doing that thing where you’re only sharing half the conversation so – go. Outside or upstairs or wherever but – go.” She waved her hands to shoo them away. “Deal with this, then put it away and come back to the table when you can discuss it like rational adults.”

“If you’re waiting for them to act like rational adults…” Natasha sighed, rising.

“I know.” Laura hugged Natasha briefly.

Clint, Phil, and Natasha filed out of the kitchen and, after a moment’s silent consultation, headed for their tent in the pasture. Clint continued to read on his phone, thumbs flying as he responded to various comments.

“Pretty bird—” Phil began again.

“No.” Clint halted just outside the tent, looking up at his husband. “No. I can put up with a lot – I can handle being called a mercenary and a carnie and a high school drop out and even a deviant but they do not get to talk crap about my spouses. Line drawn, Moonbeam,” Clint said, and his voice was firm. “I am not ashamed of us. I will never be ashamed of us. And I’ll be damned if I let some pissant with a journalism degree try to make me feel shame.”

Natasha unzipped the tent and sank onto their shared bedroll. “He isn’t suggesting you let it go, dearling – just that we talk about it before you respond.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Clint demanded – almost shrilly. “Damn it, Moonbeam. Stop thinking like a handler and start thinking like a husband!”

Phil rubbed his forehead, then immediately had to reassure both spouses that it was a reflexive action and not a true headache. “Sweetheart,” he began again, taking Clint’s phone out of his hands and tossing it onto the bedroll next to Natasha. “Please believe me when I say I want to jump to defend you too – but I want to be smart about this.” He lifted a hand to Clint’s cheek, cupping it in his palm. “I can’t think just as a husband, lovebird. I have to think as a Clanchief, too. If we’re really going to go freelance – us, and the Scoobies, and maybe the other Avengers – we’re going to need public support. We’re going to need people on our side, pretty bird. That means being smart online, being… thinking like a politician. Being tactful.” He stroked his thumb over Clint’s cheekbone when the archer didn’t respond. “We’re still going to respond, and we’re still going to tell them that calling our wife a whore is unacceptable. We’re just… going to do it in a way that makes us into the good guys here.”

“We are the good guys,” Clint murmured. “Why doesn’t anyone remember that?”

“They only know what SHIELD has released,” Phil guessed. “And what their own journalists have dug up. We have to assume it’s all crap and start at the top. Tell our own stories.”

“I hate this,” Clint admitted, his throat tight. “I hate – I hate this.”

Natasha tugged at both of them until they laid down with her, curling herself on top of them until all three were intertwined. “Phil’s right. We have to tell it from our side, dearling – because Gaia only knows what they’ve been told. And not just us – Cap and Thor and Bruce will have to do the same thing. Tony’s been playing the media for years, but…”

“But now he’s got to show the world he plays well with others, and that’s a new narrative for him,” Phil continued when she trailed off. “But he’s got people for that – and I’m not concerned about Tony.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Liar.”

Phil huffed out a half-laugh. “Alright. I’m not as concerned, at least. One thing at a time. We have to respond to this… video mess.”

“We should contact Boswell,” Natasha murmured. “Make sure we have his – and Kate’s – permission, and then post a video of the whole performance, hers included. Find the best one online and buy the rights to it – I’ve got plenty of cash stashed away in a few numbered accounts. Post it, identify the carnival and Kate, if we’re allowed, and be honest.”

Clint was unable to stifle the bark of laughter. “Honest. Right. How do you suppose we’re going to answer the questions as to why we’re at a damned carnival in Iowa and not doing clean-up in New York?”

“We were ordered to take leave,” Phil said, tugging Clint closer to him. “Family medical. By our physician. All of us were wounded during the Battle, to differing degrees, and she ordered us to take leave.”

“I’m very obviously not injured in that video!” Clint retorted sharply.

Natasha made a quiet, sad noise that instantly silenced both her husbands. “Not physically,” she said finally. “But… dearling… you can’t say you aren’t… hurting.” She pressed her face into Phil’s shoulder, and he felt a warm dampness that could only mean – 

“Please don’t cry,” Clint whispered to their wife. He shifted until he had one arm under Phil’s neck and the other sliding around Natasha’s shoulders, pressing her into their chests. “I’m sorry, Sunshine, I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“It’s not just that,” Natasha choked out. “You’re so angry and you’re – you won’t listen to Phil and – I don’t want you two to fight.” She almost felt bad about not stifling the tears, but she knew they were the most effective way to end the argument.

Phil tightened his arms around both his spouses. “I’m sorry, love. Pretty bird. I don’t mean to be – I don’t mean to sound unreasonable.”

Clint sighed, relaxing into their touch even as he tried to soothe the tears away from Natasha’s face. “You don’t sound unreasonable, Moonbeam. You sound entirely reasonable, and that’s part of the problem.” At Phil’s quiet noise, Clint shook his head. “Why aren’t you furious, Phil?”

“I am,” Phil answered. He took a deep breath and relaxed some of his iron control, allowing them to see deeper into his mind – to see the rage he kept carefully leashed. “I can’t… you know I’m not the type to react emotionally.” Regret tinged his mind now, with a hint of shame. “I’m sorry if it seems like I don’t feel—”

“No shame,” Clint whispered, and shifted so that he could press his forehead against Phil’s. “I thought being able to see into your brain was supposed to prevent this shit, Moonbeam.”

Natasha laughed, a little wetly. “If that were the case, you and I would not have any arguments in the last year, dearling – and you know that’s not true.” She wiped at her cheeks, sniffling. 

Both husbands moved to comfort her, their hands tangling together and drawing out another laugh. Phil kissed each of them tenderly, closing his eyes before laying back against the pillow. “I don’t want to hold you back from defending Natasha, pretty bird – that’s not what I’m trying to do, I just… I can’t help but think of it strategically. Tactically.”

“I know.” Clint sighed, nestling closer to Phil and stroking Natasha’s hair. “Normally I’m right behind you on that – big picture, seeing it from a distance, all that sniper shit. Harder when it’s personal like this, I guess.”

“Can we compromise?” Natasha asked softly. “Do both? Have Clint responding to comments while you and I get video rights, and start crafting our own response?”

“Yeah,” Clint murmured. “Yeah, I can – we can do that, Sunshine.” He cupped her face in his hand, smiling up at her. “I love you both.”

“Both,” Phil and Natasha murmured in response.

~ * ~

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye): Here is the full video of my impromptu guest spot with the awesome Kate at @BoswellCarnival in Waverly, Iowa last night. Special thanks to @LeeMaxwell for the footage.

Brent Dawson (@BrentwoodDawsonsCreek), Replying to @AmazingHawkeye: wtf are you doing in iowa?

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @BrentwoodDawsonsCreek: Visiting family. Our physician sent us on family medical leave, mandatory two weeks.

Amy Wattle (@amywattlebird), Replying to @AmazingHawkeye: Who is ‘us’? You look okay. Was your family hurt?

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @amywattlebird: Myself, my husband Phil Coulson, and our wife Natasha Romanoff. We were all banged up in the Battle, Phil pretty bad. We’re recovering. The rest of our family made it through OK too.

ZNN’s Entertainment Desk (@ZNN_Entertainment): BREAKING NEWS: ‘Avenger’ Clint ‘Hawkeye’ Barton claims to be married to two individuals; no marriage certificate on file for either. Stay tuned.

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @ZNN_Entertainment: 1) Barton-Coulson. Get it right. 2) Polyamorous marriages are not recognized by the US, so of course there’s no marriage certificate. 3) That doesn’t invalidate our relationship.

Phil Coulson (@agentphilcoulson), Replying to @ZNN_Entertainment: 4) Scare quotes around ‘Avenger’ doesn’t make him less of a hero.

Natasha Romanoff-Barton-Coulson (@thedeadliestblackwidow), Replying to @ZNN_Entertainment: 5) Nobody says ‘stay tuned’ anymore.

~ * ~

The triad returned to the farmhouse for lunch and to reassure Laura. She fixed each of them with a piercing, interrogative stare before nodding sharply and ladling out bowls of soup. Cooper chattered at them animatedly, not really understanding all the subtext but aware of some tension in his adored aunt and uncles.

“So,” Laura said once they were all seated at the table. “Do I need to download that… thing… too? Do you want me out there defending you?”

Clint turned to his sister-in-law and held out both arms, tugging her in for a tight hug even as his heart melted. It was a moment before he answered, just cuddling her close. “No. You shouldn’t – my brother would kill me, if you got involved. He’s going to be pissed enough that the damned town is named, and…”

“Uncle Phil, he said two bad words,” Cooper whispered loudly.

“So he did,” Phil agreed. “I will speak to him about it later.”

Laura drew herself up, out of Clint’s embrace, and looked down at him. “It’s my choice to get involved,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t sit by if somebody were bullying Cooper or Lila – I won’t sit by when it’s you and Nat and Phil, either.” Her lips quirked, and her eyes slid to Phil. “Isn’t that something from your Captain America comics? I don’t like bullies?”

Chuckling, Phil nodded. “I haven’t heard him say it yet, but I imagine it’s only a matter of time.”

Cooper looked at him warily. “Uncle Phil?”

“Yes, young Mister Barton?”

“How’s you gonna hear Cap’n ‘Merica say anything? Does your comics talk?”

Phil met Laura’s eyes across the table, and she shrugged. “I didn’t tell him. I thought maybe you’d want to, but… you know… if you’d rather…”

“Oh no,” Clint interrupted. “No, we’re totally doing this. Hey, buddy,” he said to Cooper with a brilliant grin. “Finish up your lunch, because when you’re done… your Uncle Phil is gonna take you into the living room to make a video call.”

“You think he’ll go for that?” Phil asked his husband, with boyish hope in his eyes.

Clint grinned. “Sure he will. Let me just text Misty.”

It was even odds who was more excited by this idea – Phil or Cooper. The boy didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he knew it made his uncles grin, which meant it was going to be good. After he’d cleaned his bowl with the last of his bread, he looked expectantly at his mother who dismissed him from the table with a grin. “Do you think he’d mind if I watch?” Laura murmured to Natasha.

“Of course not.” Natasha scooped Lila up, hooked her other arm through Laura’s, and found a comfortable seat on the couch to watch.

Clint did something tricky with his phone and the TV screen, and a moment later Misty’s picture appeared. “Hi guys!” she said, waving.

“Grasshopper.” Phil sank onto the floor in front of the TV, his smile as wide as Cooper’s. “How’s New York?”

“Oh, it’s… busy,” she said with a low laugh. “I’m glad you called though, because I know somebody that’s had a rough day and could use a dose of Sensei cheer.” The view of her face tilted as she passed her phone to someone else. 

When the picture stabilized, Steve Rogers was sitting there, waving one hand self-consciously. “Hi. I’m Steve.”

Cooper’s mouth dropped open. “You’re Captain America!”

“Yeah.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, almost blushing. (Phil might have maybe made a comment telepathically about how adorable Steve was, much to the amusement of his spouses.) “Well, I’m him sometimes. Right now I’m just Steve.”

“Hi, Steve,” Cooper said, waving. “My name’s Cooper Barton, and I’m six!”

“He’s our nephew,” Phil said, tugging Cooper into his lap so that the boy would hold relatively still. “His dad is Clint’s brother.” 

“I have a little sister too!” Cooper said excitedly. “Her name’s Lila and she’s just a baby. She’s only two.”

Phil let Cooper babble at Steve about school and his family and the carnival – and just observed. He could see why Misty said Steve needed him… the blond looked tired. Supersoldiers shouldn’t look tired, Phil decided – it rocked the order of the universe. When Cooper stopped for breath, Phil asked softly, “Are you alright, Steve?”

A brave, forced smile – one that Phil immediately disliked – came over the Captain. “Of course.”

“Dang,” Clint breathed. “You are a terrible liar, Steve. Don’t ever change.”

Steve came closer to the camera lens as though he could peer through it to the rest of the room. “Clint?” 

Clint sat down next to Phil and waved. “That’s me. And no offense Cap—” Steve shuddered, “—Steve, you look like crap.”

Cooper covered his mouth. “Uncle Clint! That’s three bad words today!”

“Does that one count?” Clint glanced at Laura, who nodded solemnly with dancing eyes. “Wall, da—dang it. I’m sorry, kiddo. I’ll try and be better.” He reached out to ruffle Cooper’s hair and saw that hit the supersoldier hard too. “Bad night?”

“Rough morning,” Steve said after a moment. “Had… had one of those dreams where… how’d Misty say it… everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.”

{Oh,} Phil’s voice inside his spouse’s mind was laced with sympathy. {Those are the worst. I remember those, after Ken.} He wished he could reach through the camera to rest a hand on Steve but had to settle for his voice. “They do get better,” Phil promised softly. “Someday, when you wake up from those, you’ll smile instead of cry.”

“I don’t understand,” Cooper said, looking from Steve to Phil. “Why would bootiful dreams make you cry?”

Clint tugged his nephew onto his own lap and kissed the boy’s forehead. “You ever dreamed about something really amazing? Like being able to fly?” Cooper nodded against him. “Were you a little sad when you woke up and found out it wasn’t real?”

“Oh.” Cooper hummed a little. “I’m sorry you had a sad dream, Uncle Steve. Ifs you were here, I’d let you borrow my teddy bear. He protects me from bad dreams but I bet he can help with the sads too.”

Steve looked like he might cry. “Thanks, Cooper.” He glanced off screen, and another figure joined him. 

“Auntie Ona!” Cooper gasped. “Hihihi! I wish you’d come with Uncle Clint and Auntie Nat and Uncle Phil like last time! I miss you!”

Though the picture didn’t show it, Phil knew that Catriona had slipped her arm around Steve’s waist and held his hand with the other. “And a fine greeting to you as well, Cooper. I see you’ve met the Captain here. Are you a fan, then?”

“He said he’s just Steve right now,” Cooper told her seriously. “’Cept I’d rather call him Uncle Steve. Izzat okay?” 

“Yeah, Cooper,” Steve said, his throat working hard. “Yeah, that’s – that’s fine.”

Cooper settled back against Clint’s chest. His new Uncle – because he was totally considering Captain America his Uncle now, duh – looked like he was still sad. “Auntie Ona,” he said, very seriously. “I think he needs more hugs. And maybe cookies.”

“I think you might be right, lad,” Catriona said, just as seriously. “I shall hand the phone back to your Aunt Misty, and see about taking care of your Uncle Steve, aye? Wave goodbye!”

Cooper waved cheerfully as the picture spun again. The microphone was covered for a moment, and then the picture settled on Misty again. “Hi, Aunt Misty. Uncle Clint says you’re gonna have a baby!”

Misty smiled and tipped the camera a little so that Cooper could see the little roundness of her belly, patting it. “Yup. Growing one inside me, just like your mom grew you and your little sister.”

“That’s cool,” Cooper said, smiling again. “Will I get to meet him? Or her?”

“Probably.” Misty’s smile warmed. “My baby – we call the baby a cricket – will be kind of like your cousin, right? And cousins should meet each other eventually.” She looked up at Clint and Phil. “And family – clan – should maybe talk about what’s going on with each other… like…” she tapped the side of her phone.

Clint sighed. “Yeah. Okay. Guess playtime’s over, Coop… Aunt Misty’s going to make us talk grown-up stuff.” He shifted Cooper back into Phil’s lap, picked up his phone, unhooked it from the TV, and carried it out of the room. “Talk to me, Buff.”

Phil hugged Cooper tightly. “What did you think of Captain America, kiddo?”

“I think he’s sad,” Cooper said after a moment’s thought. “How’s come he’s so sad?”

Phil and Natasha traded looks. “He had to say goodbye to a lot of people,” Phil said after a long moment. “A lot of people he loved.”

“Like the forever goodbye kind?” Cooper asked. Phil nodded silently. The boy digested that. “Is that why Auntie Ona is taking care of him? ‘Cause she’s had to say lots of forever goodbyes too?”

“Yes,” Phil agreed, cuddling the boy closer.

Cooper tucked his head against Phil’s neck. “Have you had to say forever goodbyes, Uncle Phil?”

“Yes.”

“Have you, Momma?”

Laura nodded, her eyes full of recent and sharp pain.

The boy pondered that, then curled closer into his Uncle Phil. “I’m sorry about the peoples you had to say goodbye to,” he said finally. “You and Momma and Auntie Nat and Uncle Clint and – everybody.”

“Thank you, Cooper.” Phil held him close, rocking the tiny body against his heart.

~ * ~


	9. Chapter 9

The Glad Rag (@gladragLGBTQmag): We here at The Glad Rag want to thank @AmazingHawkeye, @AgentPhilCoulson, and @TheDeadliestBlackWidow for their courage in coming forward as a committed polyamorous triad. In our eyes, that’s just as brave as staring down aliens. #polypride #awesomeavengers #morethanheroes

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @gladragLGBTQmag: Thanks for the support. We hope that being open about our relationship can help others find the courage to accept themselves. We’ve all struggled with sexual identity, and we know we aren’t alone in that. #betruetoyou #itgetsbetter

Natasha Romanoff-Barton-Coulson (@thedeadliestblackwidow), Replying to @gladragLGBTQmag: I don’t know, they both look a little like aliens first thing in the morning. At least until they’ve had three or four cups of coffee each. #notmorningpeople #instanthumanjustaddcoffee

Phil Coulson (@agentphilcoulson), Replying to @thedeadliestblackwidow: Whereas you are always as luminous as the sun, and as orderly as the stars. #hopelessromantic

Kristin Delgado (@krispykritterkatsup), Replying to @gladragLGBTQmag: Someday, I want to find a partner to talks to me like Agent Coulson talks to his partners. #sosweetihavecavities

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @krispykritterkatsup: No – you want the way Phil talks to us. As Phil, he’s the most romantic man I know. As Agent Coulson, he’s a kick-ass secret agent bureaucrat who can kill people with a paper clip. (Although that’s pretty sexy, too.)

Phil Coulson (@agentphilcoulson), Replying to @AmazingHawkeye: I have never used a paperclip. Other office supplies, yes.

Natasha Romanoff-Barton-Coulson (@thedeadliestblackwidow), Replying to @agentphilcoulson: I second Clint’s aside – it’s still pretty sexy.

ZNN’s Entertainment Desk (@ZNN_Entertainment): BREAKING NEWS: ‘Avengers’ Hawkeye and Black Widow demonstrate lack of humanity in series of tweets – can we trust them to protect us?

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @ ZNN_Entertainment: Whether you trust us or not, we’ll still protect you. I don’t have to agree with someone to value their life. #idontlikebullies but I’ve got a bit of a #savingpeoplething.

Ravenclaw Pride (@HP4LifegoEagles), Replying to @AmazingHawkeye: Did he just casually drop a Harry Potter reference?!?!

Angie Edwards (@angeleyes), Replying to @HP4LifegoEagles: He totally did. @thedeadliestblackwidow reads the books out loud on our family nights. Natasha has an awesome speaking voice. @AmazingHawkeye does sound effects and @agentphilcoulson supplies hot cocoa and snacks. #HawkFlock #agentsofcoulson #spiderlings

~ * ~

“Did you ask the kids to get involved?” Clint asked Phil. The triad was curled up on the couch, a tangle of limbs, each with an electronic device. Phil and Natasha had traded their smartphones for tablets – Clint claimed he was faster with his thumbs than his fingertips. 

“Did you expect Angie to report the issue to us, Misty to call us on the carpet about it, and then them back away without acting?” Phil retorted, raising an eyebrow. “I consider us lucky that Mister Stark hasn’t seen fit to join the discussion yet.”

Clint wriggled deeper into the couch cushions, tucking his feet more securely under Phil’s thigh. “From what Buffy said, he sounds preoccupied with having new roommates.”

Before being Chosen, Phil would have assumed that was a derisive comment – now, he could feel his husband’s warm amusement rather than the disdain his words suggested. “Catriona tells me he’s spent every night in the shop with them – and is doing his level best to take care of each of them,” Phil added.

“I still have no idea how he managed to fool me so thoroughly.” Natasha wrinkled her nose. “It isn’t easy to pull one over on a Widow – and though I wasn’t at my best during the whole palladium-poisoning fiasco… I should have seen through him.”

“He’s spent a lifetime perfecting that image, love,” Phil reminded her gently. “I doubt there are five people alive on this planet that can claim to know the real Tony Stark.”

Clint squirmed again, this time inadvertently elbowing Natasha. “Sorry!”

“What’s bothering you, dearling?” Natasha asked, catching his elbow and wedging it between her and the couch in an attempt to halt his squirming. 

“Aside from having spent the day defending my work and my spouses on the internet?” Clint shot back.

Natasha pinched him. “Yes. Aside from that.”

He made a face – held out another eighty-four seconds before his resistance crumbled. “Thinking about what Barney’s going to say,” he admitted quietly. Clint glanced up to be sure neither Laura nor Cooper was nearby. “He’s worked damned hard to keep Laura and the kids out of his work – out of the life. He’s going to pissed as hell at me.”

“You didn’t pull them in,” Phil pointed out.

“I might as well have.” Clint tucked his chin into his chest, phone clutched forgotten in his hand. “The name of the town’s all over the news. Hell, somebody interviewed that little girl I ran into in the store when I was shopping for toys – the one that goes to school with Cooper. It doesn’t take a genius to put together the dots and realize he’s related.”

“Speak of the devil,” Natasha murmured as the boy zoomed through the hallway.

“No running in the house!” Laura called after him. “Is your bag packed for morning?”

Cooper skidded to a halt (a slippery halt – he was sock-footed and the hallway was slick from years of that exact movement) in front of a bench by the door and carefully examined his backpack – one that Phil was amused to see bore a Captain America shield on the back. “Homework and planner and shoes for gym and we’ll do snack in the morning!” he announced cheerfully. “All ready for school!”

Clint blinked. “School.”

“Yeah, Clint,” Laura said, with a hint of a smile. “That place kids go every day?”

She’d meant it to be teasing and was shocked to see Clint losing all the color in his face. “School,” he repeated, and this time he held out his arms to his nephew without really being aware he’d done it. Being a bright child, Cooper climbed into his uncle’s lap without speaking. “Can’t you keep him home, Lo?”

“Why would I do that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

The archer’s arms tightened around his nephew – tight enough to earn him a squeak. Phil scooted a little closer, trying to urge his husband to speak. Natasha couldn’t make heads or tails of his mind, it was too chaotic. “Coop,” Clint said softly. “Cooperino. Kiddo. Your classmates they’re… they’re gonna wanna talk about us.”

“Of course they are.” Cooper’s brow furrowed and he looked up at his uncle. “You’re awesome. Why wouldn’t they?”

“It might not be… it might not be nice things,” Clint managed to choke out.

The boy shrugged. “People says not nice things alls the time, Uncle Clint.” Phil and Natasha exchanged a look – and caught Laura’s glance as well. They were all unfortunately aware of how cruel children could be. That Cooper accepted it so blithely was both a blessing and a tragedy. It didn’t seem as though he took those ‘not nice’ things to heart… but it also meant he’d heard enough of them to have learned that behavior. “Do you need me to not talk about you?” Cooper asked, squinting up at his uncle. “Like, is this class flied?”

“Classified,” Phil corrected automatically. “We’re not going to ask you to lie about us, Cooper.”

Another shrug. “I hafta lie about Daddy all the time. It’s okay.”

Based on the absolute heartbreak filling Clint’s mind, it emphatically was not okay with him – and the look on Laura’s face suggested a similar feeling. Phil stroked a hand down Clint’s calf, the closest part of his husband he could reach. “Be that as it may,” Phil began, then shook his head. “We won’t ask you to disobey anything your father has told you to keep secret – but the things about us, and the Avengers… you can tell the truth. You don’t have to,” Phil added, when Cooper looked doubtful. “If you think that the other kids will be worse if they know you’re our nephew, all of us will understand you not wanting to talk about it.”

“Uncle Clint?” Cooper tapped his hand on Clint’s arm. “You’re squeezing kind of tight.” 

Clint forced his arms to relax a little. “Sorry, Cooperhawk.” He pressed his cheek against the soft hair. “Phil’s right,” he said quietly. “Whatever you want to say or not say… whichever keeps you safer.”

Realization flooded Phil. The handler (ex-handler?) kept one eye on his husband throughout the rest of the afternoon, as they dealt with the digital media from the comfort of Laura’s couch. CJ called – surprising and initially worrying Phil – but had only needed reassurance… and, oddly, wanted Phil’s permission to tell Tony the truth about his age.

That had initially puzzled Phil – not that CJ would want to tell Tony before the genius could discover it himself, but that he thought he needed Phil’s permission to do so. It occurred to him nearly an hour later that the young man was concerned about whatever Phil had done being uncovered… concerned for Phil. That was unexpectedly touching. It might be time for Phil to reevaluate the charade of CJ’s age – or at least, to see if the sharpshooter wanted to tell the rest of the family his biological age. As far as Phil was aware, Misty was the only one that knew the truth. It was a thought to consider another time… sometime when he was not faced with a spouse wound so tightly that Phil could make no inroads into his mind, nor could Natasha.

They’d made it through their first day as a public triad without anyone saying anything to set off a worse media storm – that was a victory in itself. He hadn’t had to call in the rest of the family to assist (though Angie’s unwavering online support was both noted and appreciated) and altogether thought they were handling it well. This was… different. It reminded Phil of the archer’s behavior in Wisconsin last Christmas when CPS had arrived to speak to the flower girls… and he thought it came from a similar place of fear.

He kept his silence on the subject until Laura took Lila and Cooper upstairs to put them to bed. When they were alone, Phil leaned forward and plucked the phone out of Clint’s hands. “Talk to me, pretty bird.”

Clint tried to resist, but he’d spent ten years following Agent Coulson’s orders, and a year and a half being his husband. He kept his mind locked tight, but he did finally begin to speak. “How am I supposed to keep him safe, Moonbeam? Him, and Lila, and Laura – hell – any of you? It isn’t… I get now, why SHIELD works so hard at being invisible. Because right now, it would take a moron with an internet connection about fifteen minutes to figure out that a fucking Avenger has a child relative in this town – and that scares the shit out of me.” Clint drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Phil was tempted to interrupt – to reassure – but Natasha shot him a look and he desisted. “We’ve got enemies. SHIELD has enemies. Hell, I’m sure there are perps that want me specifically dead, and – and I just paved them a road to how to hurt me.”

“We’ll keep him safe,” Phil promised, laying a hand on Clint’s shoulder.

“How?!” Clint burst out in words and actions, leaping to his feet to start pacing, hands gesticulating wildly. (Natasha thought very privately that it was adorable that he was using a melange of ASL and Scooby signs as he spoke.) “I couldn’t keep you safe, Phil! A mad demigod with a glowstick of destiny speared you like a fucking tuna and there was nothing I could do to keep you safe. Fuck, I couldn’t even keep me safe,” he added, swirling to face his spouses. “How the fuck am I supposed to keep you and Nat and the kids and the hitchhiker safe when I couldn’t even—” Clint’s knees gave out and he sank to the floor, his face a mask of terrified anguish. 

Phil was at his side a moment later, Natasha a half-breath behind him. His immediate urge to reassure Clint was once again halted by a very subtle shake of Natasha’s head. He settled for physical soothing, gathering Clint into his arms and rocking the now-sobbing archer against his chest. Silently, Natasha sat back on her heels and watched. Phil was a little puzzled at her silence – and restraint – but he’d long since recognized she had strengths that he did not.

“Safety is never guaranteed,” Natasha said finally. “You know that, dearling. Anonymity might protect those we love in different ways, but openness has protected Catriona for centuries… and it seems to work pretty well for Tony Stark, too.”

“How are you not freaking out about this?” Clint demanded – almost angry in the face of her serenity.

Natasha smiled – just a little – but there was no amusement in it. “This right here? This moment? This fear? This is what the Red Room trained us to never feel.” She held up a hand at his instinctive protest. “I do feel it, Clint. If you’d open up your hard head, you could feel that I do – I now fully appreciate how frustrated you’d get when I’d lock you out at Solstice.” 

Phil could feel it too, now – could feel that Natasha’s mind was wide open to both of them. He could see her fear, but there was a much larger portion of her mind that was… warm.

“They didn’t teach me that needing to protect those I love was a stronger force than fear,” Natasha continued. “We were told love was for children and beneath us but the truth is… we were trained never to love because if we did… the Red Room would lose all power over us.” She sat up on her knees and reached her hand to cup Clint’s tear-stained cheek with her hand. “Dearling, when that madman stole my husband – there is nothing I would not have done to get you back. There is no line I would not cross to defend you or Phil, and damned few that I wouldn’t cross for the rest of our family.” Her lips twitched. “Fuck the fear. You know damned well what they say – the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” She leaned closer, her eyes twinkling. “And spiders.”

Clint blinked once, snorted, and started to laugh. He turned to bury his face in Phil’s chest, still laughing even as tears spilled over again. Natasha scooted closer until she close slip her arms around both their waists. Gradually, as his tears eased, Clint reopened his mind to his spouses.

“So, my deadly spider,” Phil said after they’d soaked in the togetherness for a few long minutes. “How do you propose we fight against fear?”

She hummed, rubbing her cheek against Clint’s shoulder. “The same way we fight against every threat, loverling. Gather intel, make a plan, stick together.” She curled her fingers in the waistband of Phil’s pants to tug him just a little closer. “We need to know who knows what – and I personally think Tony’s strategy of safety by visibility is smarter for us. I think we should be so visible and so beloved that anyone who thinks to strike one of us knows that they’ll have to fight us all.” She tipped her head back to meet Clint’s eyes. “That’s the piece you’re missing, dearling. That’s the piece you didn’t factor into your first reaction. You aren’t the one keeping us safe. This is not a solo mission. Hell, it isn’t even just our triad – and I don’t think it’s going to be just our family, either.” Natasha smiled a little. “My love, when the fear starts to get to you – when you think you need to shut us out to protect us from it – go search up that hashtag Angie started for you. Yours, or mine, or Phil’s. See what your Hawk Flock thinks of the threats against us. See the complete strangers leaping to our defense.” Natasha’s smile widened and turned a little wicked. “See what my Spiderlings or Phil’s Agents of Coulson say.” She stretched up from where she rested against him to kiss Clint on the lips.

“You evil minx,” Phil breathed, blinking at their wife. “You – we’re building Dumbledore’s Army.”

“No.” Natasha shifted again, this time to kiss Phil solidly. “I’m building something a lot stronger. I haven’t lived with a nerd for this long – and known you even longer – without learning the power of fandom.” She pulled away so that they could see her smirk. “Captain America already has a fanbase. So does Iron Man. And by the end of the week – between us and Misty and Angie and the rest of the kids? I bet we’ve got a bigger fanbase than Captain America.”

“Natasha!” Phil gasped.

Her smirk broadened. “Alright. I suppose surpassing seventy years of fandom is too much to ask for a week. But I bet we can at least beat Iron Man.”

~ * ~

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye): G’night, #HawkFlock! My husband is glaring at me to put away my phone and come to bed, and I’m smart enough not to argue with him. 

Phil Coulson (@agentphilcoulson), Replying to @AmazingHawkeye: I wasn’t glaring, I was leering. Please appreciate the subtleties.

Natasha Romanoff-Barton-Coulson (@thedeadliestblackwidow), Replying to @agentphilcoulson: You should know by now that the direct approach works much better with him. Come to bed, Clint. We’ll make it worth your while.

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @thedeadliestblackwidow: Yes ma’am. #hawkeyeout #howdigetsolucky

Misty Summers (@mistybuffysummers), Replying to @AmazingHawkeye: Because your wife is a badass alpha chick (like my ducks), your husband is the patron saint of patience, and you’re freaking awesome. Love you guys. Hugs from home. #sweetdreams

~ * ~


	10. Chapter 10

BuzzFeed (@BuzzFeed): 7 Tweets From the Poly Superhero Reveal That Will Fill You With #Pride

Chuck Bellamy (@sergeantchuckles): This former USMC/fed agent couldn’t be prouder to have served w/ @agentphilcoulson, @AmazingHawkeye & @thedeadliestblackwidow. #iamanally #becausetheyareawesome #andkindofscary #loveyouguys

Constance D’Angelo (@amazonianangel): So if @agentphilcoulson is the Functional Bi, and @AmazingHawkeye is the Disaster Bi… is @thedeadliestblackwidow a Distinguished Bi? #thegoodonesarealwaysmarried

Larry Voight (@larrytheoldwarhorse): Nice to see a veteran @agentphilcoulson and former federal agents @AmazingHawking and @thedeadliestblackwidow find happiness. #WeServeandProtect #Evenifyoureahomophobicasshole

Evan Nichols (@evannichols1982): I should have known that only a disaster bi could pull off that sequined outfit in the @BoswellCarnival video. #sculptedbiceps #damnhefine #pleaseblackwidowdontkillme

Lancelock Mackey (@crayontacolance): We leave @AmazingHawkeye alone like two days and he breaks the internet? #HawkFlock #agentsofcoulson #Spiderlings #missyouguys

Leo Fairbanks (@leothelion_ak): I don’t know what shook me more – that there are poly superheroes, or that apparently @AmazingHakweye calls his wife ma’am. #isitasexthing #itsgottabeasexthing #amiright

Clint Barton-Coulson (@AmazingHawkeye), Replying to @leothelion_ak: I call my wife whatever she wants me to. #itsnotasexthing #itsarespecthing 

~ * ~

Maria wasn’t privy to whatever was discussed between the World Security Council and Director Fury in the days after the battle – but she was aware of some of the ramifications. Somewhat to her surprise, Fury was not disciplined for firing a missile at an aircraft in an attempt to circumvent the launching of a nuclear missile. He was not removed from command or, as far as Maria could tell, even reprimanded for it. The general feeling she’d gotten from what little she’d overheard was that Fury had acted – and reacted – in precisely the manner which the Council had expected, and that it was now a moot point.

They were concerned, however, by the mass resignations. Though the triad had been first and the Scooby Squad a close second, those eleven individuals were by no means the only resignations tendered in the hours following the Battle of New York. SHIELD had lost approximately a third of its staff from Headquarters and the helicarrier between resignations and fatalities. Another segment not based in DC had submitted their notices at the same time. Some cited Fury’s handling of Agent Coulson’s ‘death.’ Others referenced religious or philosophical differences incompatible with continued employment. Those tended to fall into two camps: those who felt SHIELD had no business allying themselves with individuals such as Thor and the Hulk as they were not “human” enough – and those who felt that SHIELD had no business fighting enemies such as the Chitauri, as they were an alien race.

Maria couldn’t fault them for the concern. She felt it too – on a very personal level. Aside from missing her bunny enough to physically ache, SHIELD had lost their best and most trusted administrator in Phil Coulson – and no one had been properly prepared for just how damned much work he got done both by his own hand and in spurring the best from those under his command. Not only had they lost Agent Coulson, they’d lost his hand-picked team… and until she’d tried to pick up the slack, Maria hadn’t had a clue how much of the paperwork that came through Phil’s office had Natasha and Clint’s fingerprints on it, too. 

She and Jasper Sitwell were the only two high level senior agents left. Sitwell was in a better place to pick up the tactical management – overseeing the teams and individual field agents that had reported to Phil. That meant adding Phil’s administrative duties to Maria’s already significant ones – while trying to deal with an influx of resignations, letters of complaint, and the heartache of missing her bunny.

Fury was in yet another video conference with the World Security Council – but this time, Maria and Sitwell were flanking him. She supposed it was to show that he was not unsupported – that while Fury may have acted against orders and be experiencing the largest exodus of agents since the founding of the agency, he was not acting alone – but it made her feel like set dressing. Not once did Fury ask either of his senior agents to speak – not once did any of the shadowed Councilors direct a question to them. (Not even the man in green robes – and damn, if he didn’t look familiar. Maria still couldn’t figure out why.)

When the screens flickered off, Fury allowed himself a moment of weakness. He braced his hands on the table and leaned forward… not as an intimidation tactic as he had so often used it, but in exhaustion. “I thought – used to think – that when the end of the world came, I’d have a different man at my right hand.” Fury glanced at Sitwell, frowning.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t attempted to fake his death?” Sitwell counted.

“Fair.” Fury sighed and straightened. “That gambit cost me my one good eye.”

“Then what the hell are we, chopped liver?” Maria snapped. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised at her outburst – Fury, Sitwell, or herself. In that moment she’d sounded more like Misty than ever before. “Whatever lies you tell the Council or yourself, you know damned well we’re in trouble.” It had to be lack of sleep that freed her tongue – ordinarily it would take a bottle of pink frothy whatever for Maria to be so blunt. “I haven’t been out of this building for more than six hours since the helicarrier docked after the Battle – and that was because I ran out of clean clothes in my locker, and I got ambushed by my family when I got to my apartment.” That was when she’d called Natasha, and subsequently been waylaid by Angie. She’d needed the break and didn’t begrudge the time. 

“I’ll push the latest batch of recruits through—” Fury began.

Maria snorted. “That isn’t going to solve the problem.” A week ago, she’d have tacked ‘sir’ onto that statement – assuming she’d have made it at all. “I don’t need a bunch of rookies bumbling through red tape like damned bulls in a china shop. I need experienced agents – and when I say experience, I mean in administration. Like Coulson. Or Summers. Or Mackey. Or Edwards.” She snapped out the surnames of her clanmates as though the absences didn’t burn her soul.

“Verley’s on the injured list,” Sitwell offered. “I was planning to draft him myself, but if you want him—”

“No.” It was Fury who answered that time – because he’d seen the near-murderous glint in Maria’s eyes. “No, that’s – even I know that’s a bad idea.” He turned to face his agents and – for a split second – let his own weariness be visible. “I’ll make a call. See if I can’t get us some experienced agents,” he added. “Borrow from another agency until we can get back up and running.” He ran one hand over his scalp, the only outward sign of agitation. “If either of you talk to Coulson – see if he’ll suggest anyone.”

She was still seething over that suggestion when she made it to her office – and angry enough not to immediately register that Sitwell had followed her and was standing in her doorway. Moving on autopilot, Maria filled the electric kettle she’d liberated from Phil’s old office with bottled water and dropped a sachet of Unitea in her mug. Well… Misty’s mug. It had been in Misty’s locker, and Maria had decided that the thermal travel mug with ‘MINE’ printed on it was nondescript enough that no one would recognize it as Misty’s.

The water had boiled and Maria’s tea was steeping before Sitwell spoke. He startled her – which said a lot about her exhaustion, not to have been aware of his presence. “Are you going to ask him?” Sitwell asked.

“Ask who what?” Maria sipped the tea – too hot – and added a dash of sugar. Catriona’s clan blend didn’t need much sweetening, but right now Maria needed the calories.

“Ask Coulson for suggestions.” Sitwell stepped into the office proper and closed her door behind him. “I figure you must be close…” he gestured vaguely around her office.

It was true that Maria had cleared all of Phil’s personal belongings from his office before Fury could turn it over to Sitwell. She and Angie (who had managed to get into the secure HQ building without any difficult, a fact that Maria-the-clanmate was proud of and Hill-the-Deputy-Director was concerned about) had removed all trace of their clanmembers from SHIELD HQ, except for what was currently sitting in her office. Next to her bunny-eared rubber ducky, Maria had propped up one of the photos from Phil’s desk, a family shot of the whole clan at the dojo. Well – she knew it was a family shot. All that showed in the picture was thirteen pairs of freshly painted toenails. She remembered that night – she wasn’t sure which was a bigger victory, getting Al to allow them to paint his toenails, or getting Angie to eat an entire bowl of Mama Diane’s macaroni and cheese without prompting. Those were good memories.

Damn it, she was woolgathering again – too little sleep, too few calories, and too fucking much to do. Maria forced her mind back to Sitwell’s question… but it brought up a much bigger one in her mind.

To trust, or not to trust?

Jasper Sitwell fought the urge to fidget under Maria’s stare. He was experienced enough to know he was being measured somehow – but had no idea whether he’d passed or failed her silent test until she spoke again.

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Maria asked. Startled by the apparent non sequitur, Sitwell shook his head. “C’mon. I’m buying.” She snagged her coat and led Sitwell to the motor pool and, once they were off base, to the same crappy Mexican joint that she and Clint gravitated towards. A waitress had taken both drink and entree orders before Maria continued. “You ever eaten here before?”

“No…?” Sitwell thought he’d had a pretty good understanding of Deputy Director Maria Hill, but the last hour had suggested that his read was lacking a few things.

“Clint brought me here the first time.” Maria dipped a corn chip in the fresh salsa and met Sitwell’s eyes across the table. “Because, to paraphrase, it’s got crap decor, superior food, and no monitoring devices.”

One of Sitwell’s eyebrows leapt up. “And what kind of conversations did you have with Agent Barton that required operational security?”

“It was personal,” Maria answered quietly. “He was kind of a wreck, because he’d just put his husband on a plane, headed to their wife… who’d just been present during a Stark house party that turned into a weaponized pissing match.”

“You knew about their relationship?”

“I did.” Maria ran her finger down the glass of water in front of her, collecting condensation. She used the dampness to draw a triquetra on the Formica. “Phil had a lot of plans in place for the three of them eventually leaving SHIELD – but none of them included an alien invasion. Not very many of them included the whole Scooby squad resigning, either.” 

Sitwell leaned back in the booth, watching her closely. “He was training one of the Summers squad to replace him?”

“Yeah – Misty.” Maria’s hand moved from her tracing to tap her clan tag, hidden beneath her uniform. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to do this job without him – not really. And if I ever did consider it, I’d have assumed one of two things – either I’d still have the Scoobies to fill his shoes… or I’d have resigned with them.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Maria sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. “You’d damned well better be the man Phil thinks you are,” she said quietly. “Because I’m about to trust you with a piece of my life that nobody at SHIELD knows.” She opened her eyes and met Sitwell’s – Jasper’s. She had to think of him as a man and not an agent right now. “Phil asked me to stay through October, to get the agency through the worst of it.” She looked down at the drying triquetra. “I don’t know if I’ll be staying beyond that.”

Jasper took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Resettling them, he blew out a breath. “Why October?”

“That’s my girlfriend’s due date. Once the plus one arrives – once we’re parents, I… I can’t guarantee I’m staying on at SHIELD.” Too afraid to see judgement in his eyes, Maria kept hers on table. “Fury doesn’t know. About my bunny – or the baby. Or that I might be leaving.”

“I can’t say I blame you.” He flagged down a server and asked for a beer. “He hasn’t exactly proven himself worthy of our trust lately, has he?” Jasper took a long pull on the beer when it arrived, then rubbed the cold bottle over his forehead. Maria couldn’t stifle a smile. “What?”

“Clint does the same thing,” she answered. “When he’s got a headache, and no one has nagged him into taking something for it. It just – just made me miss him, that’s all.” 

Jasper nodded slowly. “Not just him? And Coulson?”

“I miss them all,” Maria said softly. “Phil because I don’t know how to do this job without him. Clint, because he can make me laugh. Nat – Natasha because I knew she had my back, no questions asked and Misty…” her eyes closed again.

“You and Summers…?” Jasper asked cautiously.

Maria nodded. The arrival of their lunch gave her an excuse not to answer immediately, fussing over the placement of dishes and unwrapping her fork from the napkin.

“If you’re waiting for me to be horrified that you’re dating Summers – you’ll be waiting a long time,” Jasper said when they were alone with the food. He took a bite, blinking in pleasant surprise at the quality of food. “The anti-frat regs are crap. I’ve got no problem with agents banging boots as long as it doesn’t jeopardize a mission – and from what I can see, you and Summers never did. Neither did Coulson and Barton and Romanoff. Hell,” he waved his fork in the air, “it kind of sounds like them being whatever they are might have kept SHIELD running.”

“They prefer the term triad,” Maria explained with a small smile. “And yeah. I think it did.” She pushed rice around with her fork. “The Scoobies bailed with the triad because we’re all more family than coworkers. Phil’s stopped correcting people that call them his kids. Hell, a couple of them are open about preferring our clan – our family – to their own blood relatives. Me included.”

Jasper gave her time to settle – ate quietly for a few minutes as he watched Maria relax. “So… is that why you were so bitchy with Fury this morning? Not that he didn’t deserve it, but – you’re usually more diplomatic.”

“I was diplomatic when keeping my job was the most important thing in my life,” Maria answered, meeting his eyes. “When I thought SHIELD was all I had. I worked my ass off to get rank – to be indispensable to Fury. Now… the agency isn’t my top priority anymore. I’ll do the job, and I’ll keep people safe – but I’m done putting up with the shit that Fury and the Council dish out.”

“And the disrespect from lower ranking agents?” Jasper asked, one corner of his lips twitching. “Like Verley?”

“Like him. Like Rumlow. Like Fletcher. Like Hand.” Maria flicked her fork in the air. “And like whatever bumbling blockheads Fury assigns us to try and fill the Coulson-shaped hole in our damned senior staff.” She stabbed a bite of chicken with her fork, using far more force than necessary. “And if they don’t like it? I’ll either take it out on them in the ring like I did with Verley – or I walk.” She shrugged. Inside, she knew she wouldn’t walk until October – that she’d obey her chief’s request no matter the provocation. But she was done avoiding confrontation based solely on fear for her job. Fury needed every agent who knew their ass from a hand grenade – and he fucking well needed her.

Jasper had set his fork down at the first name and as she’d continued to speak, a quiet smile had grown. By the time she’d finished, it was a broader expression than she’d seen on his face since their training days. “Nice to have you back, Xena.”

It had been years – probably a decade – since Maria had allowed anyone to use that particular nickname. It had been reserved for the Marines she’d served with and a very select number of her SHIELD coworkers that she’d pulled out of impossible situations early in her career – and never to be repeated. But this time, Maria’s lips twisted into an almost feral smile. “That’s General Xena to you, Jazzy.”

~ * ~


	11. Tuesday, May 8, 2012

{I do beg your pardon, treorai – but I believe we need to have a conversation, and it would be best if I could do it whilst I can pretend to still be asleep.} Catriona’s telepathic voice was apologetic.

Phil groaned and rolled over, snagging his cell phone to check the time. Even earlier than Angie had called yesterday, given that none of them had made it out of the tent for coffee yet. {Alright. Do you need Clint and Natasha too, little one?}

{If it will not strain you overmuch… I should like very much to hear them as well.}

With a jaw-cracking yawn, Phil nudged both his spouses awake, and then focused internally on the mental shift it took to echo his connection with his spouses to Catriona, and her to them. It would tire him faster than a conversation with any one individual, but it was the only way for Catriona to hear Clint or Natasha (or they her) without Gaia’s intervention. {Pretty bird, love – Catriona needs your brains this morning.}

Clint stubbornly buried his head in Phil’s neck, grumbling. {It’s a damned good thing you’re cute, sis – because I’m really comfortable, and I haven’t even had coffee yet.}

Their echoed connection didn’t allow for the bursts of emotion that he might feel from his spouses, but there was no mistaking the warmth in the druid’s tone. {I love you too, dhearthair.}

{So… what is it you need to speak to us about that you don’t want the others to realize you’re telling us?} Natasha asked, yawning and pressing closer to Phil. 

{There have been a few developments…} the druid trailed off. {Treorai, it may be wise if you would contact Tony today. He is likely to need your support, though I suspect he knows it not.}

Phil’s eyebrow shot up even as he cuddled his spouses closer. {I’d intended to contact him today about some emergency beacons for the Bartons, but – has something happened?}

A sigh that Phil heard but couldn’t echo – followed by a resigned explanation. {Miss Potts and Mister Hogan left New York yesterday afternoon, after an allegedly amicable end to the romantic relationship between Tony and Miss Potts. I say allegedly because while Tony will claim it was mutual, JARVIS reported to me privately that Miss Potts cried for several hours and broke quite a bit of glassware. Tony and Rhodey disappeared for several hours, presumably to contact Colonel Rhodes’ mother – but I think it may have been that Tony needed to cry as well.}

{Damn it,} Natasha sighed. {I wondered if this was coming. Damn it. I need to call Pepper. You said they left – are they headed to Malibu?}

{I believe so. Tony did not say, and he seemed… too fragile to ask. I can inquire of JARVIS, if you like.}

Natasha shook her head though Catriona couldn’t see, pressing closer into Phil. {Doesn’t really matter, she’ll have her cell either way. Damn it. How bad was it?}

{Tony seemed quite subdued but attempting to be strong for the rest of us,} Catriona reported. {He went to a meeting and had a talk with CJ – presumably about the lad’s history?}

{He called and asked my permission to tell Tony his age.} Phil didn’t have a hand free, but he wanted to rub his forehead. {Not that he needed my permission, but I can understand wanting it. Was CJ alright?}

Catriona sighed again. {He was… shaken. He required some soothing by Bruce before he could join us for bed – but at least they appear to be forming a good bond. It is curious, in a way… the tendrils I see between CJ and Bruce remind me quite of those between you and I, treorai.}

{If it makes CJ feel safe, I’m all for it,} Phil said firmly. He had no doubt that CJ loved him – he wasn’t threatened by the idea of CJ expanding his circle of trust.

{Can we get back to Tony?} Clint interrupted. {I love the kid too, but I’m worried about Tony.}

Phil tipped his head down to look at Clint. It wasn’t like his husband to interrupt – or to openly express worry. {Your gut, or Gaia?}

{I’m not itchy, if that’s what you mean.} Clint scrunched his nose up as he thought. {It’s more – feels more like when Lance lost his mind and thought you were canoodling with CJ. A kind of… I don’t know…}

{Disturbance in the force?} Natasha supplied. {Not the big outside world, but just in the Clan?}

{Yes!} Clint lifted his head to stare at her. {Yes, that’s it exactly. And damn it, I didn’t realize I could feel Tony in the Clan and I totally can.}

{That is the other topic I wished to speak with you in regards to – the Clan bonds.} Catriona relayed quickly the frankly awe-inspiring professions of loyalty and unity that had happened over dinner. {It appears to me that… that they have fully accepted us as Clan, though they know it not as such. I felt the threads strengthen for the speaking of such words even without your presence, treorai. I do not know how to proceed.}

It was Phil’s turn to sigh. {I felt it too – but I felt more people than I expected. The inclusion of Doctors Selvig and Foster surprised me – as did feeling Darcy and Thor in the Clan. Not a bad surprise, but… tell me, who is eolas coimedai?}

{Eolas coimedai – knowledge keeper – is JARVIS,} Catriona said in a soft voice. {I did not know… I did not realize that he could be a part of us. Have I erred?}

He was quick to reassure her. {No, of course not. JARVIS must meet Great Mother’s requirements for humanity, or he could not have found us on the astral plane – and I am not going to break my brain trying to understand how it works, either. If he has a Gaelic name and we can feel him – he’s Clan.} Phil paused. {I suppose that means I have to figure out how to give a clan tag to an AI. There’s a pretty puzzle. Oh, and if you could email me the spellings of all the new Gaelic names, I’ll call Sherrod in DC and order tags.}

{I will send you a list,} Catriona promised. 

Clint stretched and sat up, keeping his hand on Phil’s chest. {Still worried about the Tin Man. He actually has a heart – I don’t like thinking of it broken.}

{His – Colonel Rhodes appears to have him well in hand.}

{Oh, nuh-uh,} Clint snapped back immediately. {No self-censoring with us, Catriona. Spit it out.}

There was a long pause as the druid carefully weighed her words. {The bond between Tony and Rhodey is what I saw between Phil and each of you, prior to your… consummation. It is an incomplete achroi ghra bond. I have no way of predicting whether it will mature farther – and I would not use the term with anyone else.}

Phil let out a surprised noise that in a less refined man might have been called a squeak. {Well, I’ll be damned.} He wasn’t upset – on the contrary. {He’s fiordilis, yes? Steadfastly loyal?}

{Aye.}

{Suits him.} And the worst of his worry for Tony started to ease. {How long is Rhodes staying?}

{I believe he intends to remain until you three are home – here.}

Clint grinned at his spouses – because he’d caught her little slip of the tongue. {Home, huh? Even without us there?}

Catriona made an untranslatable sound that managed to convey her frustration. {Yes. I cannot explain it, but – yes. Here is home. I do not know if it is the people or the place—}

{Doesn’t matter, little one,} Phil interrupted gently, before she could get more distressed. {I’m not upset – neither is Clint, he’s just teasing you.} He tapped his husband to remind him that though they could hear Catriona, it was without the emotional cues that would prevent such a misunderstanding. {If Rhodes is staying, then Tony will be fine.}

{How can you be so sure?} Clint demanded.

Phil paused, but ultimately decided on bluntness. {When you got shot four years ago – five now, I suppose – what did you need to steady yourself?}

{You. And Nat,} Clint answered, with an unspoken but obvious ‘duh.’

{And that was before our bond was finalized, yes? Tony’s heart is wounded. He needs his achroi ghra, even if it’s not a fully active bond. Rhodes has been the key to Tony’s safety and security for more than two decades, pretty bird. I trust him with our ceannroadai deantoir.}

Clint huffed, tried to argue with himself, and finally caved. {Alright. But I still think you should call him.}

{I will,} Phil promised. {I want to ask him for those beacons anyway. Little one – you need to rest now, I can feel your energy flagging from here.}

{Yes, taoiseach,} Catriona agreed. {Know that I love and miss each of you, and anticipate eagerly your return.}

Natasha’s lips curved against Phil’s skin. She hadn’t sat up yet, reveling instead in a few more minutes of cuddling. {We love you too, deirfiur.}

Phil broke the connection and stretched. “I need coffee.”

~ * ~

There was minor chaos in the kitchen as Laura got Cooper’s lunch packed and the boy sent off to school. Phil took the time to fuel up on breakfast and coffee, trying not to notice how tense Clint was at the mere idea of Cooper leaving the house.

“I could go with him – ” Clint offered.

“That would just make it worse,” Laura told him, patting his shoulder soothingly. “He’s a good kid, Clint. He’ll be fine.”

But his husband’s continued fretting made it easy for Phil to justify slipping aside to place a call. Not wanting to disturb Laura or Lila, Phil stepped out on the back porch and dialed Tony’s number.

“Agent?” Tony greeted. “Everything okay in farm country?”

Phil smiled – glad that Tony couldn’t see him. The engineer’s immediate concern belied every public image he tried to exude – but Phil had always seen through it anyway. “Yes and no. I find myself in need of your genius.”

“That sounds like you need me in the shop – hang on.” Tony’s voice was muffled briefly, and Phil heard him excuse himself and laugh with whoever was in the room. Phil heard the soft whoosh of elevator doors closing. When Tony spoke again, it was without the light jocularity he’d used with others in the room. “Alright – it’s just me and JARVIS. I think I’m gonna need details.” 

“I’m afraid I need to ask a favor. Our nephew – well. To start with… Clint did an archery show Sunday evening, and—”

Tony cut him off. “And now he’s a YouTube and Twitter sensation. Yeah, we know. Mama Rhodes mentioned it, your Misty and Angie were already working on it – and they’ve drafted Darcy and JARVIS.”

“That’s – a formidable group,” Phil said, momentarily distracted from the issue at hand. “Great Good Goddess, that could either be the beginnings of a wonderful friendship or a supervillain origin story.”

“JARVIS’ll keep ‘em on the up and up,” Tony answered, amused. Another whoosh of the elevator doors came through the speaker, followed by the faint hum and whirring of Tony’s workshop. Good – Phil was hoping for privacy for part two of this conversation. “What is it you all have dubbed yourself, J-Man?”

“Media Monkey Meddlers, Sir.”

“Apt,” Phil chuckled. “Well, that’s good. That’s – that’s part of why I’m calling. There’s been a lot of press here, and they’ve… identified our niece and nephew, and Clint’s sister-in-law. They haven’t outright published their names yet, but it doesn’t take much to connect the two.”

There was a long pause before Tony answered. “You know, no matter how good of a hacker you and the kid think I am, there’s no way I can put that genie back in the bottle. Even JARVIS can’t scrub the entire internet.”

“I know that.” Phil leaned against the porch railing, looking out over the fields. “I figure if you had the capacity to remove a video from the internet, you’d have scrapped those sex tapes from the nineties.”

“Hey, I look damned good in those, thank you very much.”

Phil shook his head, chuckling. “I’m smart enough not to comment on that. No, I had something else in mind… some kind of locator beacon, panic button. Something we could give the kids and Laura so that if something does happen…”

“Emergency SOS straight to the Avengers, with GPS coordinates attached,” Tony finished for him. “Not a bad idea.” Phil could hear him tapping on a surface – different tones. Fingers and a pen, maybe? Tony never could hold still. “Actually, all of the non-combatants should have something like that, shouldn’t they? Misty mentioned wanting to go shopping with Angie and even knowing Steve talked her into taking CJ for overwatch, it made my skin crawl.”

“Welcome to my world,” Phil said drily. “I was protective of all of them before – but after Misty’s assault and finding out about the cricket, it’s cranked up to eleven. Add in having to save my husband from a demigod…”

Tony made another noise that Phil couldn’t identify. “Speaking of.” He cleared his throat. “You guys have been together awhile, right? Like – more than a year?”

“Two years next month.” Phil’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

“So… you were already – a thing – when I – when Natasha was undercover at SI?”

“Yes…?”

“And when you came to the Tower to get me working on the Tesseract problem,” Tony continued, his voice curiously soft. “Clint had already been taken?”

Phil had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony blurted. Utter shock robbed Phil of the ability to respond. “I wouldn’t have flirted with Natalie if I’d known she was married – known she was your wife. And if I’d known the pair of you were trying to get your husband back, I’d have been… I think – I hope – I’d have treated you both better. I’m sorry if my conduct made a bad situation worse.”

In the nearly four years that Phil had served as Tony Stark’s SHIELD handler, he couldn’t remember ever having heard that much honesty and vulnerability in the man’s tone. Catriona had been right – Tony was more affected by the break with Pepper than he was willing to state. Phil couldn’t think of any other reason Tony would be quite so open. “We appreciate that,” Phil said finally. “But to be honest – I was maintaining my composure on the helicarrier by the thinnest of margins. If you’d been kinder, I might well have shattered.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m still human.” Phil scrubbed a hand through his hair, blowing out a long sigh. “Despite rumors to the contrary, I am not an android. I held it together because it was the only way to get Clint home – but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hurting – ”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tony interrupted. “Christ, I am bad at this kind of shit.” The engineer took a long, cleansing breath. “Doesn’t seem to matter how many amends I make, I wind up with new ones for not being able to keep my foot out of my mouth.” 

Ah. That answered part of Phil’s question. Step eight of AA was ‘Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all’ followed by step nine: ‘Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.’ He’d never considered whether Tony would feel any guilt over flirting with Natalie Rushman – hadn’t given it a thought once Natasha was home, other than to bemoan that damned ‘not recommended’ report of hers that Fury would not allow to be amended. “Apology accepted,” Phil said after a moment. “Unnecessary, but accepted. If I’d held a grudge, I wouldn’t have accepted your offer to take in the kids – the team.”

Tony snorted. “You can call them the kids. I’ve only met three of them, and I already get it.” The resumption of tapping noises on Tony’s end told Phil that the vulnerable moment had passed… but he reminded himself to be gentle with the engineer’s heart for now. “I’ll whip up some sort of mayday button. Maybe something to hang on the same chain as those tags the kids wear?”

Thinking of the call he needed to place to Sherrod, Phil nodded – then realized Tony couldn’t see him. “Yes, that would work – at least for most of us. I suppose Cooper and Lila could be convinced to wear something like them as well.”

“How old are they?”

“Cooper is six, Lila is two-and-a-half.”

A faint humming, followed by a shuffling noise that Phil suspected was the engineer drawing up holographic diagrams. “Needs to either be big enough that the baby can’t swallow it, or something strapped to her. Unless you think you can talk her mama into a subdermal implant?”

“Laura is a saint, but I think that might be pushing it.”

“Yeah, I figured – anything Howard thought was a good idea for a kid should just get scratched right off the list.” Tony hummed again. “Maybe not worry about the SOS ability for the baby, just a tracker. They can be pretty tiny, I can put a bunch of them in barrettes and socks or something. I’ll whip up some options and send them with CJ on Saturday when he picks you up… they might need some fine tuning, but we’ll get your family tagged safely. Is that everything, Agent?”

“Ah… no.” Phil rubbed the back of his neck. “Tony…”

A deep sigh. “Okay, I thought the timing was suspicious. You want to talk about Pepper. Who snitched?”

“Someone who cares about you and wanted to make sure you were alright.” Phil knew Tony would likely figure out that Catriona was the one to inform him – but if the druid hadn’t, he suspected that Misty or CJ would have called today with the news. 

Another snort from Tony. “Yeah, right. Rhodey didn’t call – ”

“No, he didn’t.” Phil had been struggling with how to introduce the concept of the Clan to Tony and the others – had debated some kind of formal ceremony, a solemn occasion. That might still be something they did down the road – but Phil knew that wasn’t what Tony needed right now. “Rhodey isn’t the only person in that Tower that cares about you, Tony.” 

“Okay.” It was soft and unconvincing, laced with either disbelief or denial – Phil couldn’t quite parse it. “That’s going to take some time to wrap my head around, Agent. More than fighting as a unit, even.”

“I know.” And he did – Tony’s lack of emotional connections to others had been part of what prompted Natasha’s determination of ‘not recommended’ in that damned report. He was all too aware of the betrayals Tony had suffered in his past – knew that earning and keeping the engineer’s trust would be the work of weeks and months, more than mere days. He also suspected it wouldn’t be his words that would convince Tony of his sincerity. This was a man who judged not by what you said, but in what you did – and Phil silently affirmed his vow never to betray what trust he could earn from Tony. “I’m not going to interrogate you or press you to talk about your feelings – ”

“Thank God.”

“ – because I figure you’re getting enough of that from Misty and Catriona… but you are always welcome to call me, Tony. Me, or Nat, or Clint – hell, any of us – and I suspect that includes the Scoobies and the other Avengers, too.”

Tony was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice was different. Without visual clues Phil was floundering a little to interpret the change, but he thought it was less guarded. “The kids seem to think it’s a breach of national security or something to call while you’re off on your sabbatical.”

Phil smiled despite himself, propping one hip against the porch railing and watching a particularly adventurous chicken peck around the yard. “I won’t lie, we need the time. Learning how to live in each other’s heads is… challenging.” An understatement worthy of a SHIELD field report – as much as Phil ached to be at the Tower with his kids and new clanmates – he knew this time away was critical. He could hardly be the clanchief his kin deserved if he didn’t settle into his own mind. And speaking of kin… Phil decided it was time – past time – to be sure that Tony understood. “Being in Iowa doesn’t mean we aren’t available for our family. It might mean a delay in answering, but it’s never going to be a refusal.”

A rattle followed by a small thump – Phil guessed that Tony had dropped whatever he’d been fiddling with. “And I’m a part of that family?”

His heart ached to hear the wistful, dare-not-hope tone hidden in Tony’s words – and reaffirmed his decision to do this now. He’d have preferred to have this conversation face-to-face, but Tony needed to hear it now more than he needed to look in Phil’s eyes. “Yes, ceannroadai deantoir. You are.”

“Can I – will you tell me what that means?”

“It’s Gaelic for ‘visionary builder’, and it is what Gaia, Catriona and I have chosen to refer to you as,” Phil explained. He was a little confused by Tony’s hesitance in asking – and why ask him, and not JARVIS? Surely the AI could translate the Gaelic that Catriona used. “You mentioned the clan tags that the kids and Catriona wear – each of them have a Gaelic name.”

“The pixie told us what hers meant, and showed us her tag – but she made it seem…” Tony trailed off, and Phil wished fervently that he’d thought to make this a video call. It would disrupt the conversation too much to change it now, but that didn’t keep him from straining to catch every nuance of sound on Tony’s side. “It felt too sacred to ask, I guess. She didn’t want to tell us what they all mean, and I just… was trying to be… respectful, I guess.”

Phil felt another wash of protective fondness. For a man who could have any information he wanted at his fingertips in an instant to allow people to continue using words he didn’t understand – for him to respect the sanctity of someone else’s beliefs – that spoke more to Phil of the depth of Tony’s feelings than any amount of money ever could. “You can ask each of them what their names mean. Mine is caomhnoir treorai – guardian guide. Some of them are more abstract than others.”

“So it’s… like a pledge name. Or a Confirmation name,” Tony ventured. Phil made a small affirmative noise. “Everybody who has one is family?”

“It’s one of the ways we know when someone is family, yes.” The assigning of a name was one factor that seemed to allow Phil to ‘feel’ a person on the astral plane – the speaking of a vow appeared to be another. He was beginning to suspect that there was a third element at play – that one of the existing clan had to lay claim upon a person, but it wasn’t exactly like he had a large sample size to extrapolate from.

The silence this time was long enough that Phil pulled the phone away from his ear to check that the connection was still active. Just about the time he was going to prompt Tony, he heard a very quiet, quickly muffled sound. “You called me that just before I went through the portal,” Tony managed to say.

“I did.” Phil recognized the sound of stifled tears, and sent a quick text to Misty and Catriona both – whoever was free, would they please attend to Tony seeing as Phil was too far away to hug him? “It was only the last clue I needed, however – Clint decided at the very beginning of the Battle that you belonged with us. To be more specific – when you dubbed Loki’s scepter the glow stick of destiny.”

“You adopted me because I’m quippy?” Tony asked incredulously – and in a voice that broke.

“What can I say, I have a weakness for troubled individuals with a twisted sense of humor.” Phil was relieved to hear Tony snort, though he could also tell the genius was still struggling with emotion. “I already considered you one of mine, Tony – I have since Director Carter first called to tell me that I should take care of her godson. This just… solidifies it, a little.” He paused. “Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to. I’ll understand if this… if being a part of our family isn’t something you want.”

“I want,” Tony choked out – half-muffled. Phil suspected he had a hand over his mouth, or his face hiding in his hands. “God, I want—”

A door opened, and a breath later Phil could hear Misty’s voice through the phone. “C’mere, Tony.” She spoke as gently to him as she ever did to CJ – the same sweet steadfastness that warmed Phil, offered now to Tony. Phil heard a rustle of cloth and suspected the squad leader was wrapping Tony in a hug. “I’ve got you now, athair. Come on then – come sit down here with me and the cricket… there you go.” More rustling, and Misty making soft little chirps that he’d heard her soothe the other Scoobies with. “You just hold on as tight as you need. I’m not going anywhere.” If she held true to form, Phil knew she’d be carding her fingers through Tony’s hair. “Sensei, if you’re done with the Tin Man I’m going to have JARVIS hang up. I think we need some quiet time.”

“I’m done, grasshopper.” Phil closed his eyes, picturing them safe and cozy. It wasn’t the same as being able to soothe Tony himself, but there was comfort in knowing that Misty had him well in hand. “Thank you.”

Before JARVIS or Misty could end the call, Tony spoke again. “Hey, um… Phil? Thanks.”

~ * ~


	12. Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Phil wasn’t surprised to discover that Clint had brought Lucille, although he hadn’t noticed the bow case when they’d boarded the StarkJet in New York. (He’d been concerned primarily with the pink bakery box in his hand, containing a dozen powdered donuts.) Clint must have stashed her away, thinking his primary weapon would be unnecessary in Iowa… but the familiar routine of practicing had apparently been too much for his husband. Clint was now shooting arrows the length of the barn into a stack of hay bales – all thirty-six that his quiver would hold (presumably culled from Barney’s supplies, as Phil was certain the archer had run out during the Battle) before trotting across the barn to pull them from the hay. Phil let time fall away as he watched Clint practice. Leaning against the doorframe, he was basking in the summer sun – and being treated to the delicious view of magnificent biceps and, when Clint trotted down the barn, equally magnificent quads and gluts.

“It’s kind of creepy when you just stand there watching,” Clint said eventually. It was sometime around the fourth – or was it fifth? – trip down to fetch arrows.

“I like to watch you,” Phil said, not raising his voice. “You’re beautiful.” Though the words were simple, they were laced with absolute honesty.

“You’re biased,” Clint said, smiling. He set Lucille down on a bench and stalked towards his husband – letting his gait turn into the predatory prowl that had gotten him banned from teaching but that never failed to make Phil blush. He did blush – and lift a hand to rub his thumb along the veins visible on Clint’s bicep. “I cannot understand you and Nat’s obsession with my biceps.”

Phil ducked his head to press a line of kisses along the vein he’d been tracing, humming. “You’re a work of art, pretty bird.”

Clint cupped his hand around the back of Phil’s head tenderly. “So you’ve said before. Art is in the eye of the beholder, I guess.” 

“Mm.” Phil’s hands and lips were busy, and his mind awash with a contented buzz that Clint more associated with the end of amorous activities than the beginning.

In physical contact with his husband, there were very few mental shields between them. Clint was treated to the full extent of Phil’s euphoria. “Your mind tastes drunk,” Clint chuckled.

“Feels it, a little,” Phil admitted. His hands skimmed over Clint’s back, feeling the cotton beneath his hands damp with sweat. “Think it’s a Chief thing.” His hands slipped lower, tugging at Clint’s beltloops until the younger man was pressed against him from knees to shoulder. “Like I’ve had three glasses of wine and a cuddle with all the fledglings, old and new.”

“Explains why you’re getting handsy in the barn,” Clint teased. “You’re drunk on love.” He caught Phil’s hands, forcing them to somewhat safer territory on his hips. “Moonbeam.” Phil paused at the seriousness in Clint’s tone. “You know I never object to fraternizing with you – but we’re missing something.”

Phil snorted. “You keep lube in your quiver, and don’t try and tell me otherwise—”

“No, that’s not – I mean, yes I do but that isn’t what I mean.” Clint released Phil’s hands to cup his own around his husband’s cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact. “Where’s our wife?” His only answer was a long, slow blink. “You don’t think it’s a little strange, that you’re out here drooling over me and she hasn’t come slinking out of the shadows to join us?”

“Now that you mention it…” Phil pulled back reluctantly. “Nat?”

There was no answer – spoken or telepathic. Clint sighed and unstrung Lucille. “She’s blocking me pretty thoroughly. I assumed she just needed some space.”

Unable to completely disengage from his husband, Phil followed him as Clint tucked his bow neatly into her case, patting the weapon fondly before closing the latches. “I don’t think I understand.”

“If you weren’t drunk on love, you might see it.” Clint held his hand out to Phil and tugged until the older man was curled around him again. “Do you want me to tell you, or walk you to the answer?”

Phil tried to pummel his brain into shape. It was a familiar question, but he was more accustomed to asking it than being asked. “Walk me through it please, pretty bird.”

“Why am I out in the barn?”

“Because that’s where it’s safe to shoot?” Phil guessed. He leaned his head against Clint’s shoulder, nuzzling at the damp cotton. “Which begs the question… why did you need to shoot.” Clint hummed encouragingly, stroking his hand down Phil’s back. “You’re on a hair trigger because of the kids, right? Cooper and Lila?”

“Think of it a little broader, Moonbeam.” Clint cracked open his own mental shields a little further. It wasn’t difficult to let Phil in – he hoped that Natasha would take the invitation as well. “I’m worried about my family. Not just the blood relations – we spent a while talking to the pixie about the kids and the new clanmates, too… and then you went into the other room and had a pretty intense talk with Tony.”

Phil’s eyebrows drew together. “Neither of you are jealous, are you?”

Clint huffed out a laugh and tightened his arms around Phil. “Not like that. But I think maybe… I mean, it made me think about the family I grew up in… or lack thereof…” Flickers of memories flashed between them – snippets of an unhappy childhood of neglect and abuse. “At least I had that much,” Clint murmured, when he felt Phil tense at the memories. “You saw how Nat was when we first went to the Inn – she doesn’t even have bad memories to base this on, Moonbeam… she’s flying blind, and you know she doesn’t handle that well.”

“So this is… family panic?” Phil asked.

“I think so.” Clint feathered his fingers through Phil’s short hair. “And if I’m right… I bet I know where we’ll find her.”

They reentered the farmhouse hand-in-hand. Laura was in the living room with a paperback novel. The absence of the baby confirmed Clint’s suspicion. He pointed upstairs, and Laura nodded – both of them too used to the presence of a sleeping child to be unnecessarily loud. Clint led Phil upstairs and to the back of the house, where Lila’s nursery looked out over the back yard.

At first, Phil thought the toddler was alone in the room, tucked into her crib. (He wondered idly if Laura had been planning to transition Lila to a toddler bed soon – then realized that the sight of an empty crib would likely have been a terrible reminder right now.) It wasn’t until Clint tipped his head to the side that Phil caught sight of Natasha.

She was sitting on the floor, facing the crib, with her back pressed against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were puffy and glassy, and her cheeks pale. Phil started to go to her, but halted immediately at another small head movement by Clint.

“Hi, Sunshine,” Clint said, crouching down near Natasha. Not, Phil noted, between her and the door, or her and the baby. “Is this a private party?”

“Not a party.” Natasha swiped at her cheeks.

“I signed on for the tough times too,” Clint reminded her gently. He sank down into a seated position, his eyes never leaving her. “You want us to go?”

“No.” The denial was so quiet that Phil wasn’t certain he’d have heard it, in his pre-Gaia days. (He was just beginning to appreciate how much sharper his senses were.) Natasha didn’t make eye contact with either husband, but she didn’t lean away from them either.

Taking his cues from Clint, Phil sat down an arm’s length away from Natasha, careful not to box her in. “You missed a very good show out in the barn. Clint and Lucille were practicing.”

Natasha rested her chin on her right knee. “I could sort of see it in your mind.”

Clint hummed. “Neat trick, peeking in while keeping us locked out. Didn’t know you could do that. Is it because Phil’s newer at it, or can you do it to me, too?” Phil admired how calm he sounded – Phil was fighting against minor resentment, but Clint just sounded… curious.

“You always catch me,” Natasha whispered. “Phil probably would have if he was less… giddy.”

Slowly, Clint extended his hand to Natasha. “You say that word like you don’t like it.”

The deadly assassin in front of him slipped her hand into Clint’s and sniffled. Phil’s heart squeezed, but he stayed silent. “I don’t understand how he can be so… so… relaxed and happy when… with everything just… it’s all falling apart.”

That confused and concerned Phil, but Clint made a soft noise of understanding and scooted closer to Natasha. “C’mere, Sunshine.” He settled himself into a cross-legged position and tugged her into his lap, gesturing for Phil to come closer as well. “Phil doesn’t see that part,” Clint murmured. “He’s not ignoring it – he doesn’t see it. You have to tell him, my love.”

Blinking fresh tears away, Natasha burrowed her head into Clint’s neck. It was so rare for Clint to use such an endearment – for him to yield to what he teased them for as hopeless romanticisms. She pressed a hand to her abdomen. “I don’t know how to handle our family growing. I barely know how to handle a family at all.”

“But—” Phil started to protest. Clint silenced him with a single shake of his head and waited for Natasha to continue.

“I don’t know how to be what they need,” Natasha whispered against Clint’s neck. It was easier to say it aloud when she didn’t have to make eye contact with either husband – easier to keep her mind locked down. “The fledglings I’ve got mostly figured out – but – I mean, I don’t think the same tactics will work on Tony and Steve and the others. I can’t just dump Steve on his ass in the ring, and I can’t see Tony curling up with the kids and listening to me read Harry Potter. I don’t know what to do for them, and I… what if I can’t be the matriarch they need?”

Phil blew out a long breath. “You aren’t the only one worried about measuring up, love.”

Natasha’s eyes flew open and shot to him. “What…?”

He scooted closer, curling around both Clint and Natasha, resting his head on the back of Natasha’s shoulder. “I know how to train rookies,” Phil said, his voice nearly as soft as Natasha’s had been. “And I’ve been soldiering on—” Clint snorted “—by treating the kids the way I treat my sisters and their kids, but – being the patriarch to a heartworn supersoldier, an emotionally damaged engineering genius, a gamma irradiated nuclear biologist, and a demigod… yeah, I don’t have a playbook for that.” He settled one hand low on Natasha’s back, the other sneaking under the hem of Clint’s shirt to settle against the skin of his side. “I know they’re ours. I don’t know yet what they’ll need from us, but I’m going to do my damndest to give it to them.”

“I think we’ll know,” Clint said, rubbing his cheek against Natasha’s hair. He covered the hand Phil had in the small of her back with his own. “Big Mama wouldn’t have tied us all together in this big astral web if She didn’t trust that we could take care of each other,” he pointed out. “You’re probably right that the new ones won’t want the same things the fledglings do. Hell, I’m only four months older than Tony – I can’t treat him the same way I treat CJ. But… that doesn’t mean I’m not going to offer.” Clint smiled, a little sadly. “We aren’t the only ones with fucked up families, Sunshine. I’d be shocked if Tony ever got read to as a kid. He might like it. For damned sure I know he’d like to be included.”

Natasha sniffled. “How can you know that?”

Clint kissed her temple. “That’s what we all want, isn’t it? That’s why this works. We aren’t clan bound by blood, but by purpose… isn’t that what Catriona said? And… I think that purpose… I think what binds us is that we all want to belong to something greater than ourselves.”

Phil hummed, closing his eyes. He reached inwards and despite them being on the second floor of the farmhouse, sought Gaia. His mind – already tired from the echoed conversation earlier in the morning – ached at the contact, but he did perceive what he needed. “You’re right, pretty bird,” Phil said. “Great Mother summed it up a little more succinctly.” He paused, his lips curving against Natasha’s shoulder blade. “We’re bound by love – and a saving-people-thing.”

~ * ~

There was no reason, in Natasha’s mind, not to carry on with at least some elements of their normal routine. Most of the ordinary schedule of their lives had been shot all to hell by the Chitauri invasion and their resignation from SHIELD – but just as Phil had needed donuts on Friday, Natasha knew what Clint needed on Tuesday. After a Google search and soliciting Laura’s opinion, Natasha chivvied both her husbands into jeans and t-shirts, then out into Laura’s minivan. 

When she pulled the van into the parking lot of El Sol Mexican Restaurant, Clint broke into a surprised and delighted grin. “Aw, hot damn. Sunshine, you’re awesome.”

“I try.” Natasha was trying not to smile – trying not to reveal just how pleased she was at his reaction.

{Don’t hide the delight from us, love,} Phil chided softly in her mind as he took her hand to walk into the restaurant. {It’s too lovely to hide.}

She ducked her head, a flush rising in her cheeks, and marveled again that she’d found two men that could break through all the Red Room conditioning to see her true self. Even before the touch of the Goddess two and a half years ago, she’d had her miracle: that Clint and Phil trusted her, despite her past. And not just trusted, she knew – they may not have spoken of it until Clint was Chosen, but she’d known that there was mutual respect and affection years before that. For a woman who had spent roughly sixty years as an unfeeling agent of the Red Room, the purity of their feelings was a revelation and a balm to her soul. {I love you both,} she told them silently.

{We love you too, Sunshine.} Clint caught her other hand, squeezing it as he pulled open the door to the restaurant. They were immediately assailed by the scent of spices and ground beef. Clint sucked in an appreciative breath, his smile widening. “Ahh. That’s the ticket. Three for lunch,” he added to the hostess that appeared. They were led to a corner booth and Clint nudged Natasha to enter first. He and Phil flanked her, grinning a little at her eye roll. “Can’t blame us for being protective.”

“Yes I can,” she said, taking a menu from the hostess. She opened it and ran down the list of lunch specials. “There you go, dearling – they have a taco platter.”

Clint did a shimmying victory dance in his seat, making both his spouses grin. “I love tacos,” he breathed happily. “Love, love, love.”

“We know.” Phil’s eyes were sparkling. “I need to make sure we find a place that’ll deliver to Stark Tower.”

“Avengers Tower,” Natasha corrected absently as she read through the menu again. “Buffy said he was changing it, remember?”

Phil had forgotten – unsurprisingly, given the sheer amount of information he was attempting to retain from the last few days. “I expect JARVIS can find us a place, if Tony doesn’t already have a preference.”

“About that…” Clint began. He folded his menu and set it aside, picking up a sugar packet to fiddle with. “The team, I mean. You know, the whole… going solo thing.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. She knew that Clint agreed with them breaking with SHIELD and going independent – so his current hesitance didn’t make much sense. “Something on your mind, dearling?”

“Well. Yeah.” He picked up a second sugar packet and started rolling them through his fingers like quarters – albeit awkwardly shaped ones. “It doesn’t feel right, just being the Avengers. I mean – as a name. Like, that’s not who we are, you know? That’s a label that the media slapped on the six of us that were on the ground for the Battle… it doesn’t include the Scoobies, or Ria… or Catriona.” One of the sugar packets slipped to the tabletop and Clint switched to building a tiny teepee out of them. “I saw somebody online call Angie an Avengers groupie – somebody else tagged her as an Avenger ally but that’s… it doesn’t seem… fair.”

That was an interesting question, Phil mused. Not one on the top of his list, but he could understand Clint’s concern. “Have you mentioned it to the kids?”

“No… didn’t want to add to their mess.” A third and fourth sugar packet joined the structure, which was beginning to resemble a house of cards. “I figure it’s something we could do like… as part of the official welcome to the clan thing with Tony and the others. Hand over their tags, maybe have them make some sort of pledge or vow, and then… like tell them the new name.”

“But it’s to replace the Avengers title, not An Teaglach Tofa?” Natasha clarified. They were interrupted briefly by the waitress. Clint ordered the taco platter, Natasha an enchilada combo, and Phil opted for a chicken quesadilla. When she walked away, Natasha continued. “This is the public name for the group you’re talking about, not the private one?”

Clint nodded, adding a second story to his sugar packet structure. “Like, if we’re going to run this like a business – the business name, I guess?”

Phil leaned back against the booth cushion, tapping his fingers against his chin thoughtfully. “And if we are going to run it like a business… we need the name before we get much further. Name and a basic structure.”

“Well, you’re in charge,” Clint said. “Obviously. So that makes you, what – CEO?”

“Good grief.” Phil blew out a breath, which caused Clint to put a protective had between his husband and the sugar-shack. “I suppose. Great Good Goddess, I don’t like that though.”

“Why not?” Natasha slid closer to Phil, slipping her hand into his. “You are our Chief, loverling. Being the Chief Executive Officer isn’t that different from being the Senior Agent, is it?”

Sighing, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I suppose not. It’s – just – it feels very corporate. Very…”

“Stark?” Clint suggested with a small smile. “If we want to be taken seriously, we need serious titles, Moonbeam.”

“If I have to tolerate a title, so should you,” Phil pointed out with what he thought was perfect logic. “Both of you. Hell, all of us.”

Natasha fought to keep her amusement hidden, but there was no denying that her mind was bright and dancing. “Alright then. What role do you see Clint filling?”

“Training,” Clint answered, before Phil could. “I like it – I like it a lot, teaching the kids.” He looked down at the sugar tower. “I figure there’s going to be a lot of learning to work together, to balance strengths and weaknesses. I – I want to do it.”

Just as Natasha couldn’t hide her amusement, Phil couldn’t have hidden his pride. “Chief Training Officer,” he murmured. “You should have had that role at SHIELD, pretty bird – but I didn’t want to pull you out of the field. With us on our own, you can do both.”

Clint offered them an almost shy smile. “I’d like that.” Another layer was added painstakingly to the sugar packet structure. “What about you, Sunshine?” When Natasha didn’t answer right away, Clint cleared his throat. “I kind see you as the heart of the operation, you know.”

That floored her – and if she hadn’t been able to look into his mind, she might have doubted his sincerity. “How so?”

“Well.” He huffed out a breath as he sought the right words, knocking down the carefully constructed sugar tower. With a muffled curse, he started over at the bottom. “I figure it’s Phil that thinks up most shit – but it’s you that makes it happen. Like… like bonding with the Scoobies. Phil knew it needed to happen, but not like the actual thing, right? You were the one that thought of Harry Potter, and you’re the one that reads.”

Phil nodded slowly. “Chief Operating Officer, then.”

“Yeah.” Clint pointed one of the sugar packets at him before adding it to the tower. “I like that. But us having titles doesn’t solve the bigger name problem.”

“I like the idea of having Avengers be a part of it,” Natasha said, leaning into Phil. “Because the Avengers are a part of the whole.”

“True.” A phrase was tickling at the edges of Phil’s mind, but it didn’t seem to want to come forward – but that brought up another thought. “Why are we doing this aloud?”

“Would you rather we whisper?” Clint asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Snorting, Phil tapped his temple with two fingers. “I thought we were working on strengthening mental muscles, pretty bird.” Whatever reaction he’d expected, it hadn’t been for their husband to suck in a breath, push back from the table, and knock over his sugar tower a second time. “Clint?”

“I’d just – rather talk,” Clint muttered. He folded his arms, tucking his hands against his side. “That’s all.”

Natasha slid away from Phil and closer to Clint, slipping her arm through his. She used her other hand to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. “What is it?” He looked away. She shook his chin gently. “You know I won’t judge you, dearling. You’ve seen the worst of me. What is it?”

“I…” Clint tried to look away again and wound up having to close his eyes to avoid hers.

It was the eyes that made him think of it – eyes that were now the familiar steel grey but had been, for a time, a vibrant Tesseract blue. “Oh.” Phil let out a soft, pained sound. “Oh, Clint. I’m so sorry, pretty bird. It hadn’t occurred to me.” Phil slipped out of his seat and came around to Clint’s other side. 

Those silver eyes remained closed now, and Clint’s jaw worked silently for a breath. “It shouldn’t bother me. It isn’t – the same.”

“Should and shouldn’t doesn’t matter,” Phil murmured. “How you feel matters. He – he invaded your mind, I’m not surprised…”

{… that you feel violated,} Natasha finished telepathically. She stroked Clint’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “I didn’t think you’d want that word aloud, dearling.”

A different word for what had happened hovered in Clint’s mind. He knew they heard it – could feel both of their sadness and sympathy. But he couldn’t allow himself to think it too loudly, and he wouldn’t voice it. “I’ll… I’ll be okay. I just – need…”

Phil tugged him close and kissed his temple. “Would you rather we not use it at all, pretty bird?”

“No.” Clint leaned into Phil. “I know we need to work on it. I don’t mind it when we’re talking to Big Mama… even when we’re just using it to keep from waking the kids. It’s just not – comfortable all the time.” He tapped a single sugar packet in a rapid staccato on the tabletop. “I can’t even describe when it bothers me and when it doesn’t.”

“I don’t ask anybody to justify their triggers,” Phil murmured.

“Is it easier to speak or be spoken to?” Natasha asked. She was stroking her hand up and down his arm, trying to gauge his current stress level.

Clint shrugged, a little frustrated. “I don’t – it isn’t that simple, Sunshine.”

The conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing their lunches – looking momentarily confused that they’d changed positions in the booth. She didn’t make an issue of it, and Phil resolved to tip her well as a result. 

“I don’t want either of you to make a big deal out of the – the mind thing,” Clint said when they were alone again. He looked down at the plate of tacos. “I’m working on it. I just – it’s – ” Clint closed his eyes. {For forty-eight hours or so, the place in my head where only Natasha and Gaia had ever been was filled with something foreign and unwelcome and – and sometimes having you there again is a blessing and a reminder that I’m free and other times I just feel like I’m going to infect you both with that fucking blue light if you touch me there so just – just give me some time, okay?}

“Okay,” Natasha said aloud. With careful precision, she used fork and knife to cut a bite of her enchilada. She hummed a little in satisfaction as she tasted the first bite. {I would feel more comfortable if you would tell us – or give us some sort of sign – when you are uneasy with us in your mind. I don’t like the idea that you’ve been… that we’ve been hurting you unintentionally.} She held up a hand to interrupt the protest she could feel building. {I understand wanting to just push through it, dearling – I really do. But I’m very unhappy to think you’d continue to allow me to hurt you.}

That brought Clint’s shocked eyes up to meet hers. His tacos – which were good, though not spectacular – were forgotten as he stared at Natasha. “Oh. Damn.” He blew out a breath. “Great Merciful Mother, that was not – I didn’t mean – ”

Phil set down his fork and caught one of Clint’s flailing hands in his own. “We know that,” he murmured. “I have to agree with Natasha – I would rather you agree to tell when you need space.”

Part of Clint resisted violently the idea that he needed what amounted to a damned safe word inside his head – but he couldn’t ignore the larger part of his soul. It was one thing to grit his teeth through the horrible squirming sensation when they did not know the effect – it would be entirely different to expect to endure it with his husband and wife aware. It was also a terrible burden to place on his spouses – that they would not know when they reached out to him whether he would be comforted or horrified by the contact. That was unfair, and Clint knew it. “I’ll… yeah. I’ll tell you both. If you – if you touch my mind and I can’t… if I’m tender, I’ll tell you it’s blue. Blue light.”

“Thank you,” Natasha breathed. She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she had regained her composure. “So. We three have job titles, but we still don’t have a name, a corporate name.”

In many relationships, that kind of abrupt subject change might have been unwelcome. Phil and Clint recognized it for what it was: Natasha considered the issue closed. They had been speaking of a company name prior to Phil asking about the lack of telepathy – and they’d now addressed that issue. She accepted Clint’s explanation and trusted that he would use the signal he’d agreed on. Therefore – back to the prior topic.

“Something Misty said has been circling my mind,” Phil admitted, sipping from his coffee. “She called it – facetiously, I’m sure – the Avengers Rescue and Recovery show.”

“Huh.” Clint scooped up a bit of spilled taco filling with a tortilla chip. “I can almost see her doing jazz hands when she says it, too.”

Phil smiled. “Not quite. But I liked it… it included not just the fighting, but the clean-up. I think that’s… as important or more than the actual battle.”

“Spoken like a true handler… or Guardian, I guess.” Clint chased another lump of ground beef around his plate with a chip. “It’s kinda wordy for a business, though.”

Impish amusement lit Natasha’s face. “Well. Since we just left one of the alphabet agencies… maybe we could take a leaf out of their playbook, and have our name be an acronym. ARR is a good start.”

“Well, yeah. I mean one of my favorite words starts with that,” Clint pointed out. “Can’t see everybody wanting to be part of a team named for my arrows, though.”

“Why not?” Phil asked. “SHIELD is named for Steve’s shield – and I like the imagery. Small, fierce weapons that move swiftly,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “And not just the arrows you use with Lucille, pretty bird – arrows point the way.”

Clint made a face. “That sounds hopelessly idealistic even for you, Moonbeam.”

“I like it,” Natasha argued. She tipped her head to one side, thinking. “I’d like the W to be ‘worldwide’ – because I don’t want to limit ourselves to American issues.”

Smiling at his wife, Phil nodded. “Seems only fair, given that the Goddess doesn’t care about geopolitical borders – why should we?” 

“We still gotta figured out the O in ARROW,” Clint pointed out, gesturing with a tortilla chip.

As they devoured the last of their lunches, ideas and suggestions flowed as easily as they would have planning a SHIELD op. The waitress removed their dishes but, seeing as the restaurant was not busy, Phil didn’t feel obligated to hurry out. Instead, he started jotting notes to himself as Clint took advantage of the freshly cleared table.

Before the triad left El So Mexican Restaurant, they scooted close together so that Phil could snap a picture. He tapped out a caption before sending it to all the Clan, new and old. It wasn’t the best photo – part of his cheek was cut off, and Natasha’s attention was halfway off-screen – but they were all three smiling. In the middle of the photo, Clint’s sugar tower reigned supreme – five fragile layers balanced with the precision of a marksman. The caption that Phil added read, “The first board meeting of ARROW, Inc – the Avengers Rescue & Recovery Organization Worldwide, Incorporated.”

~ * ~


End file.
